


i hope that i don't fall in love (with you)

by annesbonny



Series: Zukka RWARB AU [1]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: AND I'M SO EXCITED, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern with Bending (Avatar), Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bisexual Disaster Sokka (Avatar), Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Gay Zuko (Avatar), Humor, I hope lol, IT'S A RED WHITE AND ROYAL BLUE AU, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Ozai (Avatar) Being a Terrible Parent, Pining, Sexual Content, There's gonna be ANGST and PINING and mIsCoMmUnIcAtIoN, There's gonna be the author having a cry abt these two dumbasses, and it's gonna be beautiful, canon typical mentions of child abuse because of ozai, please join me for the journey, rwarb au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:34:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 117,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26638159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annesbonny/pseuds/annesbonny
Summary: Zuko lets out a huff of breath next to him, hand dragging over his mortified face, a mirror of Sokka’s in the realisation of just how bad this is.“Oh,Agni.”For once, Sokka can agree with him.When Prince Zuko of the Fire Nation and Sokka, son of the Water Tribe Chief accidentally cause an international incident at possibly the biggest royal wedding of the century, when Sokka's dad is running for the Chief office again, someone needs to do some damage control and quick. The plan? Fake a friendship, and hope the world forgets about it. But as Sokka grapples with political ambitions and family drama, he learns there's more to the Fire Nation prince than meets the eye. As Zuko makes Sokka question everything he knows, the boys must ask themselves: what's it worth to give their hearts to each other?[Or, the Red, White and Royal Blue AU that's been pestering me until I got it out into the world...]
Relationships: Background Bato/Hakoda (Avatar), Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Series: Zukka RWARB AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2184639
Comments: 676
Kudos: 751





	1. Don't Get Caught

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is longer than my last master's essay. more notes abt this story at the bottom.

The Southern Water Tribe Palace hasn’t changed much, in the past 150 years or so. The waterbending it took to initially form the structure is awe-inspiring and all encompassing, but the monument that sits on the edge of Harbor City, the Southern Water Tribe capital, is symbolic of their growth as a nation.

But etched on one of the walls, accessible from a balcony in the residential north wing but still technically on what counts as the roof, is Sokka’s favourite instruction. He’s not sure who wrote it. It’s probable that no one’s really sure. And he doesn’t know if the Northern Water Tribe palace has an equivalent. Perhaps he should ask Yue.

But the writing, carved in a way that makes him think it must have been one of the tribes non-bending sons or daughters, is a private mantra for those resourceful or reckless enough to find it. Sokka discovered it in the first week after they moved in. It’s his balcony, after all, even if he’s not technically supposed to climb on the roof.

It says:

**_Rule #1: DON’T GET CAUGHT._ **

Sokka was Harbor City born and bred. Water Tribe through and through and he’s proud to the teeth of it. He grew up surrounded by ice buildings and with snow underfoot. The Southern Water tribe palace is different than the home he grew up in, sure, but it’s no less his home. Katara’s room has always been identifiable by what she’s focusing on this month. What injustices and arguments she’s going to bring to the dinner table have always been plastered on her walls. Feminist icons and champions of equality, an inspiration for her to emulate. Waterbending scrolls had covered the entire area above her desk since she was 8. She still has her very first one framed in her palace bedroom.

His own room has always been different. Chaotic. A mess, however organised, is still a mess. Every surface has at least one post-it note, bearing lists, or notes, or ‘DO NOT FORGET ABOUT THIS’ memos because sometimes reminders on his phone aren’t quite enough. The chaos has followed him here, and the engineering textbooks pile up on his desk, under sketches and final project notes, and speeches that he has to make for telescreen appearances on behalf of the Water Tribes leading family. The chaos of his living quarters might well follow him anywhere, but the sound of Katara’s music drifting across the hall wouldn’t and, though he won’t admit it, Sokka would miss that.

He’d thought about going to Republic City, when he turned 18. High tailing out of Harbor and trying to make it in the city. Work his way up, be _Councilman Sokka_ by the time he was 30. Typically, children of the Chief had their own lives and things going on at 18, there was no need for them to stay in the palace, but there were so many things in the Southern Water Tribe capital that Sokka needed to _do._ But he had always planned to start at HC University, even before his father’s term began, and how could he abandon Katara?

As much as Sokka liked to pretend he was the one keeping an eye on her, it’s never been said but always silently understood that it’s the other way round. She knows him and understands better than anyone else that he needs to stay close to the heart of the action in the Tribe. Constantly working and innovating and turning wheels in his head.

She’s dragged him out of the council chambers here more than once.

Here, in the comfort of his cool bedroom decked out in the muted blue tones he loves so much, he can just about relax. He can just be _Sokka._ Non-bender, aspiring-inventor, artist, a bit of a mess. Just _Sokka._

In this space there’s no one to judge him for that.

“Knock, knock,” a voice calls from the open door, and Katara is there, entering his room before he can greet her. Arms overflowing with a stack of paper, her own computer and her phone balanced precariously on top of the best of it all.

“Food!” Sokka exclaims reaching out for the box of cream buns, freshly imported from the Earth Kingdom, as his sister rolls her eyes. He shuts the laptop in front of him as she hands the box to him after snagging one for himself.

“ _‘Oh, Hello, Katara. I didn’t know you were back yet. Are you doing alright? It’s so nice to see my favourite sister again.’”_

She’s teasing him, but Sokka won’t be deterred as he puts the first of many cream buns he intends to devour in his mouth, speaking through it.

“Ur, m’only sister,” he says, a crumb falling on his technical drawings. Katara calls him gross as he brushes it off, before she goes to sit down on the bed, sprawling out and laying the many papers in her arms in front of her. He recognises them for what they are now. A veritable stack of magazines and newspapers, all with information about celebrities, and gossip, and nothing of any actual important.

“Yeesh, Katara, didn’t know it was your job to make sure the papers stay in print!”

“This isn’t _journalism,_ Sokka,” she tuts, as if he should know better by now. He probably should, they’ve done this enough times. “It’s entertainment.”

“Anything good this week?”

“Well,” she flicks through, “ _Varricks_ says I’m dating an Earth Kingdom model who’s apparently very attractive?”

She flashes him a picture of the most chiselled looking Earthbender Sokka thinks he’s ever seen, and he raises a suspicious eyebrow.

“Are you?”

“Tragically, no.”

Following what the papers of the world – if they can be called that, and not just gossip rags – brings amusement and ire to Katara in almost equal measure. Either their dad’s press team is feeding the tabloids lines, or they decide to make stuff up, with hilarious results. The made-up ranges from funny to downright offensive, but it’s always entertaining. Sokka much prefers the many glowing pieces of fanfiction about him on the worldnet, where his charm and wit are exaggerated by people who don’t know him, but Katara won’t inflate his ego by reading those. Instead she skims to another page which has a picture of him he recognises from a photoshoot a couple of months ago.

“Apparently you’re set to release a line of hair products and reveal your secrets.”

“True facts, what can I say?”

“Knew it,” Katara says, matching his deadpan without looking at him. She sets _Varricks_ aside and pulls another glossy set of pages towards her, skimming through it absentmindedly. “Oh, I’m apparently in this wordsearch?”

“Ooh, give me?”

She chucks him the paper and opens up the one beneath it instead, which has a glossy photo of the two of them, and Yue, on the cover. Katara’s hair loops framing her face, Yue’s tumbling round her shoulders, and all three of them practically glowing for the camera. The headline reads: _**WATER TRIBE TRIO TAKE REPUBLIC CITY BY STORM.**_

Sokka rolls his eyes, crossing off his sister’s name in the wordsearch and idly skimming it for the remaining words. “Oh yeah, if you call a public council session and a Cabbage Corp party a storm.” 

“What about your ‘tryst with a mystery girl,’” Katara’s voice takes on a teasing lilt as she reads verbatim from the article on the inside the paper, “‘First Son of the Southern Water Tribe left the star-studded party earlier than his sister, only to be spotted sneaking into the Omashu Hotel at approximately 11pm’ yeah you did _abandon me_ as I recall.”

“Oh, you got over it, keep reading.” 

Sokka’s too intrigued by what they’ve come up with this time, and Katara tuts, but goes back to the page.

“’Sources inside the hotel report hearing amorous noises from the presidential suite in the hotel, and rumors are swirling. The most likely candidate, sources close to the couple say, is none other than… _Yue Taqqiq of the Northern Tribe!’_ Fuck!” Katara cursed but kept reading, “Sokka’s Ex-Flame, and daughter of High Chief Hakoda’s Northern Tribe counterpart, could it be the Yue and Sokka romance is blossoming anew?”

“I called it!” Sokka whoops gleefully, turning in his chair to point at Katara. “Two weeks since the last one, that’s 20 yuans from you to me.”

“Wait…” she eyes him suspiciously, “ _were_ you in a Republic City hotel room with Yue?”

Sokka thinks back to the other week, stumbling into a hotel room with Yue. Each of them shushing the other as they tried not to alert the surrounding rooms to two very drunk Water Tribe representatives, and failing as they rounded a corner to be glared at by a guest before they finally let themselves into Sokka’s room, only to pull up old movers that Yue loved on Sokka’s computer.

They _had_ been a thing, during Hakoda’s first election campaign. When Sokka had met her in Agna Qel’a and been instantly struck by her, because what boy wouldn’t be enraptured by Yue at the age of fifteen? Yue was of course, far too smart to date Sokka, but even five years later, the tabloids wouldn’t let it go. They were north and south, star-crossed, and oh-so-handsome of a couple.

He might as well milk it for what it was worth and get a few yuans out of Katara while he was at it.

“It might have been.”

Katara glared at him, and Sokka let out a yelp as he failed to avoid the water whip she swung his way. “Sokka, you jerk! That’s cheating!”

“Bet’s a bet,” Sokka stuck his tongue out at her, trying to wipe the excess water of his now dripping shirt. “There’s a new rumour in the paper, you owe me 20 yuans.”

“I’m gonna kill Yue when I see her later,” Katara bit out sulkily, and Sokka just laughed, turning back to his notes. “What are you wearing for tomorrow, by the way?”

“Wearing for what now?”

“The wedding?”

“Who’s wedding?”

“Uh, the _royal wedding.”_ Sokka looks up in bewilderment to see Katara roll her eyes, and chuck one of the tabloids at him. Right there on the front page, behind bright and flashy text, is a photo of the Second Crown Prince of the Fire Nation, and his fiancée. Prince Lu Ten has his arms around an earth nation girl and they’re both smiling in a way that looks like they haven’t seen the paparazzi. But Sokka’s done that smile, he knows the future Firelord has indeed seen the cameras.

He set his next cream bun back down on the plate next to his work devastation and realisation causing his stomach to plummet as he glances hollowly at the calendar almost hidden behind all the textbooks stacked high on his desk.

“That’s _this_ weekend.”

“Yeh, dummy, we’re leaving super early tomorrow?”

“Shit, really?” Sokka is baffled, pulling out his phone and immediately opening up his immaculately colour coded schedule. Sure enough, there in dark fire nation red – because what other colour was he supposed to use – the whole weekend is blocked for the Royal Wedding. The Fire Nation Royal Wedding.

“I cannot believe I forgot,” he groans, head dropping to the desk. Nothing pulls him away from his schedule usually. He checks it every hour of every day, so the fact that this glaring red blot on his weekend has somehow managed to slip his mind is truly baffling.

“Well if you and Yue hadn’t spent all that time trying to swindle me out of my hard-earned money…”

“Hey, Yue came up with that one,” he shook his head, “I’ve got final year projects to finish! My Innovation, Entrepreneurship and Enterprise final project-,”

“Dumb name for a class.”

“-is due next week!”

Sokka hands her the topmost paper from his desk. It’s the summary outline of the business plan he’d spent half the term coming up with. He’s not business minded, usually, but it’s the kind of interdisciplinary learning that mixes his love of tech with things that could support his run for Office somewhere, someday.

“Sokka,” Katara sets the paper aside with an approving pat, “have you considered, you forgot about, you know, the biggest international social event of the year because your archnemesis will be there?”

“Prince Zuko is _not_ my archnemesis. He’s just a Prince of the Fire Nation,” Sokka says, picking up another cream bun. More than anything he resents the term archnemesis because it gives credence to Zuko as a rival, which he absolutely is not. “He’s just a stupid, jerkbending, snob, who’s not on the same level as me at all. He probably kisses his mirror goodnight, and- and- is a jerk.”

“Of course, Sokka.”

“I’m right!”

“I never said you weren’t!” Katara laughs; she doesn’t like Zuko much more than she does. They just aren’t at odds as much as he and Sokka seem to be at any occasion. Even their first meeting, at the Harmonic Convergence celebration years ago, still bothers him. “I just don’t want you to cause an international incident. I’m campaigning next month, and I can’t have you dominating the news cycle because you started a fight.”

“I don’t start fights with that asshole,” Sokka denies firmly, “It’s hard to start a fight with someone who has all the personality of a cabbage.”

“All I’m saying is… you know there are people looking to pick dad apart. You causing _problems_ at the Prince of the Fire Nation’s wedding would-,”

“Would make Dad look bad, I know, you don’t need to tell me.”

Sokka shrugs her off. He’s perfectly capable of putting on a happy face and not starting arguments, or even talking to jerky-jerkbenders who have a history of treating him like he’s not even worth his time.

“Well, okay,” Katara looks willing to let it drop, but her reminder to not act like an idiot is there as unspoken as it always is.

Rather than challenge his not-rivalry with the youngest Prince of the Fire Nation, she pops her own computer open, and pulls up Netmovers, and pats the bed beside her. He joins her, rolling his eyes as he sees his Netmovers account login screen - Katara would never pay for her own when she can use his. Even if only to judge his taste in movies.

“Why is _The Avatar’s Journey_ on your watch list?” Katara scoffs, “This isn’t even the good version, Sokka.”

“The effects are good!”

“Are they though?”

“You suck, Katara.”

“You love me though.”

And he does, he really does. Enough that he abandons his work, tries to forget about the impending doom of the upcoming weekend away, and settles next to his sister on the bed as she browses aimlessly through Netmovers in search of something worthwhile.

Travelling to the Earth Kingdom is never a long flight, and yet still far more interesting than some other flights he’s been on. Part of him wishes he was on a boat, with the wind through his hair, but there’s something oddly soothing about being in a private airplane because he’s the son of the High Chief and when they need to get somewhere fast, they can do that.

His father still travels by boat a lot, and so do he and Katara. It’s just easier for them, and it makes sense. So it’s a little bit thrilling to be travelling this way, cruising somewhere over the Earth Kingdom on a private plane with Yue across from him and a Pai Sho board between them.

Across the aisle, Katara’s scribbling furious notes and her posture screams _don’t interrupt me_ and Sokka wishes for her focus. He still needs to finish his final projects, but how could he deny Yue when she tossed her waves of white hair over her shoulder and asked if he fancied a match. Suki, their assigned Kyoshi guard, is across from Katara, looking so serene as she bobs her head to whatever choice music is playing over her earphones that you wouldn’t think she could incapacitate a man in 30 seconds.

Sokka should know, she’d done it to him once.

“I win,” Yue announces, moving her last rose tile into place, and Sokka – who’d been almost distracted – does a double take at the board, before sputtering. Yue lets out a glittering laugh at the souring expression on his face. “…Again.”

She can’t help but tease and Sokka pouts. That’s three games in a row that he’s lost. He’s not sure his ego can survive another bruising defeat.

“I give up, it’s over,” he sighs dramatically, “Suki, tell my dad I died doing what I loved. Losing at Pai Sho.”

Hearing her name, the Kyoshi bodyguard looks up, narrowing her eyes at Sokka, slumped half out of his seat and Yue sat across from him laughing. She pulls an earphone out, mouth forming a question which Yue answers before she can get there.

“Sokka’s dying.”

“Ah, right,” she nods knowingly, then puts her earphone back in, only making Yue laugh more.

“Hey!” Sokka protests, sitting back up as his best friend clears the Pai Sho board off the table. Suki just shrugs, all too used to these kinds of antics from the three of them. Sometimes Sokka wonders just how much of a problem keeping the three of them alive actually is.

Scowling, Sokka reaches for magazine Katara left in his room last night. Flicking through it with mild interest; anything is better than academia when he’s in a plane halfway through the Earth Kingdom on his way to a political appearance he doesn’t want to do. At least he might get some amusement out of it.

“Anything good in there?”

He flashes Yue the double-page spread he’s opened to when she asks. The title **_ROYAL WEDDING MADNESS!_** splashed across the top in bold white letters over another picture of the happy couple.

“Just preparing for my first ever royal wedding,” he jokes, “can’t hurt to research.”

“It’s really not that complicated,” Yue smiles softly at him, but he’s still flicking through the article on this circus of a wedding.

“The banquet alone is costing 80,000 yuans!” he gasps, “80 grand just for _food_.”

“You’re kidding,” Katara pipes up from across the aisle, not looking up from whatever campaign notes she’s making.

“There’s _ten courses,_ Katara.”

“And they still won’t have enough for you,” she deadpans, still not looking up.

“Hey!” Sokka lets the magazine droop a little as he glares at his sister, and Yue plucks it from his hands, starting to flick through it herself.

 _“Apparently,”_ she grins at Sokka, tapping her fingers over a picture of the younger Fire Nation prince. He seems to have been caught by a camera, rather than it being an official photo. One side of his face wide and open in earnest surprise, while the other remains harder to read under the red scar that covers his left eye and almost half his face. “‘Prince Zuko is surprising everyone by going to the wedding without a date, despite rumors last month that he was seen again with Bei Fong heiress-’”

“Who _cares,”_ Sokka whines, unable to articulate how little interest he has in the dating life of the Fire Nation's snootiest prince. He understands people maybe caring about Lu Ten’s wedding – he at least has some semblance of a personality, but Zuko’s never been anything more than a carefully constructed mask at any event or article Sokka has ever seen him do.

“You’re not going to spend the evening keeping the lonely prince charming company, then?”

Sokka rolls his eyes at her teasing because honestly, he can’t think of anything worse. The image in his mind’s eye of being twirled round a ballroom by a stoic faced, unfairly tall and slender Fire Prince is enough to make him grimace.

“You’re blushing, Sokka.”

Yue teases, and Katara’s looked up to grin at him now, even Suki’s dropped an earphone again to join in on teasing-Sokka-time, and his slightly pink-tinged grimace turns into a scowl.

“Listen,” Sokka tells them, “royal weddings are trash, the princes who have royal weddings are trash, the imperialism that allows princes to exist at all is trash. It’s trash turtleducks all the way down.”

“Um, you know we used to have-,”

“Yes, Katara, I know technically the Water Tribe used to have a monarchy,” Sokka cut his sister off, “but we didn’t keep it around, because we’re cooler than that and we don’t need a monarchy to be awesome.”

He’d told Katara unequivocally, on no uncertain terms both the night before and a hundred other times, that he Doesn’t Have a Rivalry with Prince Zuko. He doesn’t even really have a grudge with him. He’s just sick of him.

They fill the same positions, more or less in their respective nations. Prince Lu Ten is almost ten years their elder, but Zuko? He only has a few months on Sokka. And he, Katara, and Yue are the closest thing the Water Tribes have to royalty these days. So _of course_ the news of the world has seen fit to equate him to Zuko – just as they do Katara the younger princess Azula – from his first day on the public stage.

This has never seemed particularly fair to Sokka.

Sokka, who prides himself on being so full of light, and clever ideas that he’s practically brimming with the need to get them into the world. Sokka who has already been published academically, and who was actually going to take Republic City by storm one day. Zuko is generic. The stereotypical Prince Charming of the Fire Nation. He can bend but that’s maybe the only thing he can do that Sokka can’t. He’s not _better_ than Sokka. And the role he has to fill in the world seems to Sokka to be a much easier one.

So yeah, _maybe_ he holds a grudge over their supposed ‘rivalry’, but he won’t ever admit it’s unwarranted.

“What do we reckon?” Katara shoots a sideways question, “odds on Sokka fucking up something with Prince Zuko at the wedding?”

Yue laughs, turning away from Katara to meet his glare with a wide, bright grin.

“Oh, definitely.”

The royal wedding in Ba Sing Se is a spectacle visible even from the air as they fly in. Red and gold and green flags are all fluttering in the lower ring as they fly low towards the middle ring airfield. It may be a Fire Nation royal wedding, technically, but Sokka should have known that Ba Sing Se wouldn’t do anything by halves. The woman Prince Lu Ten is marrying is a distant cousin or niece or _something_ of the Earth King and Queen. Otherwise they wouldn’t be hosting it here, and Sokka would have had to endure the sweltering heat of Caldera City.

He can’t imagine the Water Tribe would do this for him or Katara or Yue. Well, he can maybe picture blue flags hanging for Yue in the canal lined streets of Agna Qel’a, but nothing quite on the scale they see as they descend into land. He’s not sure he’d be able to deal with it.

Even the middle ring is busier than Sokka has ever experienced it. Bustling with life in a way he struggles to associate with the middle and upper rings of the walled city. It’s not the calm quiet peace that he is used to here. It’s this busy, buzzing atmosphere that follows the three of them - Suki surreptitiously by their side at all times but never out of place in her perfectly tailored emerald green suit - through to the ceremony.

The ceremony is different than anything Sokka has attended before and drags on for an eternity. Sokka’s stomach gives a traitorous grumble halfway through, but fortunately only Yue and Katara seem to have heard it. He thinks about the 80,000 yuans of food that are waiting for when this is done and thinks he can put up with what seems like a fairly loveless wedding going on. It’s not that he doesn’t believe Prince Lu Ten and Lady Cixi are in love, it’s just that it’s impossible to look past the phrase ‘ _advantageous political match’_ that he sees in every single newspaper, and not be surprised that that’s still a thing. Sokka hopes his own love story has a bit more pizzazz.

But it’s over eventually, and a steward is guiding the three of them to a ballroom, deep in the halls of the Ba Sing Se Royal palace, and the smell of the banquet hits him before they even get there. It’s so opulent it almost makes Sokka’s eyes water, and he’s grabbing a flute of sparkling wine off a passing bus boy before Katara can even think to admonish him for it.

After hours of mingling and maybe half of the very good courses of food he’d been promised, Yue arrives back in the seat on the opposite side of him to Katara, removing the silver heeled shoes before someone else can try and get her up on the dancefloor.

“I’ve not danced this much in _years,”_ she says, grinning and slightly breathless. Sokka supposes it’s nice that one of them is enjoying more than just the food. “Not since-,”

But she doesn’t get the chance to finish her sentiments, because a Fire Nation attendant appears at the table, inclining his head politely towards all three of them, before his attention lands on Katara who’s studying him curiously. “Miss Qanniq,” he says “Prince Zuko wonders if you would accompany him for a dance.”

Sokka’s head snaps round, so fast that it’s comical but he can’t stop the prince anywhere, and Yue giggles as Katara fights the urge to gape at the attendant.

“She’d absolutely love to dance with the Prince!” Yue supplies before Katara get’s the chance to answer, and before she can protest Zuko appears at the attendant’s side. Just appearing as if by magic, not a hair out of place and almost glowing in the dimly lit ballroom.

He smiles at Katara, but his gold eyes flicker to Sokka after just a moment. He is unmoved by the shocked and frankly offended expression on Sokka’s face. Sokka tries to remind himself that he’s probably had a team of stylists following him around all day, sneaking him into powder rooms to make sure his top knot doesn’t come loose.

Zuko inclines his head just slightly, as if he’s not purposefully being maddeningly infuriating, before bowing to Yue as well Too caught up in his own bitterness, there’s little he can do to protest when the prince takes _his baby sister’s hand_ and presses an overly chivalrous kiss to it. Because he _has_ to be Prince Charming all the damn time. Sokka can say nothing, caught with his mouth gaping open like a Koi fish until Yue surreptitiously pinches his arm and he slams it shut.

“Hello Katara,” Zuko says, and the terse low timbre of his voice sets Sokka’s hackles on edge just like it always does.

“Prince Zuko,” she replies, standing up, her voice equally neutral in a way Sokka can never quite manage. Katara knows how to be passionate, but she knows how to be soft too. It’s a balance he’s never quite mastered.

Then Zuko’s leading her off and spinning her away between a mix of nobility and celebrity from all four nations and republic city too and Sokka just glares. He has to be good at dancing too because he can’t be anything less than the perfect, proper prince.

Sokka scoffs and reaches back for the plum wine he’d set aside.

“Unbelievable, that- that _jerk,”_

“Aw, did you want to dance with the Prince, Sokka?” Yue pats his arm consolingly. “I’m sure you can ask him for the next one.”

“He’s doing this to piss me off,” Sokka pouts and Yue plucks the plum wine bottle from his hand, taking a swig herself as she rubs her ankle with her free hand.

“Ah right, yes, he’s absolutely dancing with one of the prettiest girls in the room just to get at you.”

“She’s my baby sister, Yue!”

As if that’s his only protest, and not the fact that it’s _Zuko._ The fact that the way he matches Katara as the two of them whirl across the dancefloor is stunning. Enough to make people noticeably start to whisper quiet words to each other as they pass nearby. Enough to make a camera go off and settle the dreadful surety that this absolutely will be in the gossip section of _RC Times_ by tomorrow morning for sure.

Sokka decides a perfectly reasonable response to this action by Zuko is to get quite astoundingly drunk. Downing the rest of the plum wine as Yue hands him back the bottle, he stands up, and skulks over to the bar, trying desperately not to reflect on anything at all with Prince Zuko.

He remembers it vividly, seeing Zuko in one of his sister’s magazines, when he was maybe fourteen years old. He hadn’t had his scar then, but the essence of _Prince Zuko_ was unchanged even then. A fifteen-year-old boy who should have looked so out of place in an editorial, but he’d just looked so fucking regal.

Dark, silky hair tied up in a bun, and a surprised but somehow soft look on his face. It was the last photo of him in the papers for a while. Sokka knows because he remembers looking for more. Remembers sneaking back into Katara’s room to look at that first picture again and try and puzzle it out. What it was about the mysterious air that surrounded the Fire Nation prince that made him somehow both unknowable and charming. Unobtainable, even for Sokka.

Then his father had been chosen as the Chief. And that unobtainable, powerful air that a Prince had been naturally exuding all his life was something Sokka found he just _couldn’t_ do. The year he turned 16 had been a whirlwind of campaigning and protecting to Katara while she did the same to him, and befriending Yue as the three of them were thrust onto the world stage in a new way.

Then he’d met Zuko.

And Zuko hadn’t been regal and soft and surprising at all. He’d just been a jerk. A stupid firebending jerk. Sokka knows rationally the only reason people love to compare him and Zuko is because they’re the same age, they hold the same positions – or at least, that’s what they say even if Sokka argues the tribes democracy and his role in it is _very_ different than whatever it is Zuko does. And whether he likes it or not, they’re both attractive.

Because Zuko is beautiful.

The scar could have made him ugly, and when he’d made a public appearance before his eighteenth birthday, the world’s papers had all been curious. It didn’t make him ugly though. Whatever story was behind it, to this day nothing more than speculation, it didn’t matter. Zuko managed to hold his head high with it, and the world seemed to admire him all the more for it.

Leaning up against a pillar near the banquet table, Sokka sulks as he tries to forget about why he doesn’t like Zuko. Focusing instead on all the people. Turning down dance after dance from pretty Earth Kingdom girls because he’s really not in the mood. He doesn’t need another thing to be compared by.

Then in the corner of his eye, he sees the man himself. Loitering in front of the banquet table, and the stack of sparkling wine glasses, and watching his cousin twirl a laughing new Fire Princess, is Prince Zuko himself.

Sauntering over, because he can’t help but make things worth for himself ninety percent of the time, Sokka sways to a stop beside him.

“Did you enjoy your _dance?”_

“Sokka.” He startles, and the tiniest feeling of guilt stirs in the pit of Sokka’s stomach, realising he must have appeared on Zuko’s bad side. But up close, Sokka can see the overtly-elaborate gold embroidery of his robes, and the way the light catches on his annoyingly-perfect cheekbones, and he remembers why he’s annoyed again.

Zuko takes a sage sip of his drink, before answering in that soft, raspy voice of his. “Yes. Your sister is a delight, as always.”

He hears the implied insult in the words. _His sister is a delight._ But Sokka never is. He doesn’t _get it._ Katara’s never really been nicer to Zuko than he has. It’s just that she never directly tries to draw out his antagonistic side either. Sokka can’t help pushing buttons to see what happens.

The worst thing is he knows there’s no way this is a one-sided thing. Surely Zuko finds him just as awful – however unwarranted that is because Sokka’s _awesome._ They are polar opposites, literally fire and water. Yet Zuko manages every single time to maintain that perfect mask of princliness and never slips. It’s too perfect in a way Sokka has never been able to be.

Sokka’s so full of emotion he’s bursting at the seams with it. Outbursts and commentaries and unplanned public speaking and inadvertently becoming a team leader. Struggling only when he’s put on the spot and overly full of too many ideas that he flusters them all.

He’s never seen Zuko fluster anything.

“I know she’s a delight,” Sokka bites out, and Zuko just nods awkwardly.

“Well, I-,”

“Don’t you ever get tired of it?”

“I’m sorry?”

Zuko sounds genuinely confused, and Sokka just scoffs bitterly. Zuko’s face carefully constructed in a way that’s trying to cover his confusion, but Sokka can see the tension building behind his eyes. He knows that if he keeps pushing, he might just be able to figure out what exactly will make the Fire Prince try and have him kicked out of the social event of the year.

Sokka thinks it might almost be worth it.

“I said don’t you ever get tired of it?” he repeats, clearly annunciating even through the several glasses of strong wine he’s had, “Finding the next perfect girl to pose with so the Fire Nation continues to have it’s shining, golden prince? Doesn’t it get exhausting?”

Beneath the mask, Zuko’s mouth draws into a thin line.

“It’s- That’s not quite what it is.”

Snorting, Sokka brings the cup to his lips again. “Of course, it’s not, big guy.”

“Wait,” Zuko says, turning to look at him properly, “Are you drunk?”

Sokka bristles at the question, the answer is of course _yes_ probably. But he’s still talking in full and coherent sentences, so it’s fine. “You’re avoiding the point.”

“Am I?” Zuko says tersely, “Well perhaps you should just drop it and let your _delightful_ sister get you some water.”

There it is. The crack in Zuko’s polished exterior.

“Why? Am I offending you?” He reaches up to ruffle the prince’s hair but Zuko catches his wrist in a tight, warm grip. Sokka flashes a wide, coy grin and shakes his head, “Sorry I’m not obsessed with you like everyone else. I know that must be confusing for you.”

“I’m just-,” and Sokka sees the muscle in Zuko’s jaw tick. He’s caught a thread and he wants nothing more than to keep pulling. Zuko looks away from him releasing his wrist sharply, mouth clamping shut as he looks at something over Sokka’s shoulder, letting out a heavy breath. It takes a moment, but when he looks back at Sokka that boring, neutral, aloof expression is on his face again. “I’m not the one approaching you looking to start something, Sokka. Maybe _you_ should consider that.”

Then he has the _nerve._ He has the absolute gall, to turn sharply on his heel and walk off, and Sokka simply _cannot_ let him have the last word. He reaches out for Zuko’s shoulder but before he can reach it, the Prince turns with reflexes Sokka would not have expected him to have, and he stumbles backwards, hand wrapping round the sleeve of Zuko’s ornate robes but it’s not enough.

His feet fumble, and whether it’s the alcohol or Sokka’s own bad luck and clumsiness he’s tripping over his own two feet, eyes wide as he sees _fire_ on Zuko’s _breath._ A glint of personality as he stops short of pushing Sokka away because he doesn’t _need_ to, and damn if that isn’t cool but it doesn’t change the fact that he’s tumbling backward. With too much momentum, hand still wrapped around the sleeve of Zuko’s robe, he sends the both of them crashing into the banquet table.

Lots of things happen at once. The room goes silent, or at least, Sokka thinks it does, it’s hard to tell – thanks to the clatter of many dishes, including the entire roast suckling pigster and the sparkling wine tower, to the ground behind him. The fire vanishes from Zuko’s breath as he lands half on top of Sokka before scrambling off, only to get caught in the tablecloth and make it somehow worse. More dishes clatter against the ground and it’s all Sokka can do to think about how absolutely _dead_ he’s going to be when he gets home. Somewhere to their right, near the disappointed faces of Katara and Yue, a camera flashes.

Zuko lets out a huff of breath next to him, hand dragging over his mortified face, a mirror of Sokka’s in the realisation of just how bad this is.

“Oh, fucking _Agni.”_

For once, Sokka can agree with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HERE WE GO Y'ALLLLLLL. I know there are a few other RWARB Zukka AUs knocking about the fandom, but honestly you can never have too much fanfic so here's my crack at it. I hope y'all enjoy because I'm really enjoying writing it! And now for Some Notes on worldbuilding:
> 
> \- Setting wise. This IS a modern AU? But like, I’m defining that as where tech and stuff etc. could realistically be at least 70-80 years or so after what it’s like in LoK. Also, Republic city exists, and the Water Tribes function as kind of a single nation in terms of government for the purpose of working with the premise of the story.
> 
> \- Because bending is still around, some aspects of technology obviously changed and different nations use stuff that’s more convenient to their bending capabilities (ie. The fire nation still loving a good speedy airship over a plane) But, because it’s convenient, some things will develop kind of as they did in our world (such as the internet - or worldnet) and computers/phones etc! Meanwhile some stuff I developed as it does via LoK (Movers, Satomobiles, etc.) even though this is still like, the Gaang.
> 
> \- Because the world feels kind of smaller than ours (or at least, more connected) I felt like News outlets would be more global, hence papers having names not necessarily related to the area they’re being read in.
> 
> \- Finally, a big part of RWARB is history and pop culture references, for these there have been some substitutions going on that will hopefully be explained by context.
> 
> If anythings unclear hopefully I can cover it in the story or in the notes! For now thank you so much for reading!  
> 


	2. Not Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sokka has to fix his and Zuko's mistake. He's less than happy about it. He learns some things about Zuko on the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to the mimosa squad who, when asked to help me come up with some Zuko facts, just started dragging the poor boy. And honestly, they were Right. 
> 
> Some TWs for this chapter: there’s some minor discussion of grief and also some implied child abuse but nothing beyond canon-typical.

**_BOTTOMS UP AT THE ROYAL WEDDING!!_ **

Sokka scrolls through the news app on his phone with a growing ball of dread in his stomach as he sits in the hallway outside his dad'soffice. They hadn’t even got off the plane yet by the time Suki told him his Dad needed to see him, and his phone pinged with a meeting request. Not that request was the right word. This was a summons.

The notification goes off in his hand again, and another headline flashes up:

**_FIRST SON SOKKA JEOPARDISES WATER-TRIBE/FIRE-NATION RELATIONS_ **

Before he can open that one too, and read what _The Caldera Post_ has to say about his and Zuko’s fuck up, Suki opens the door to his Dad’s office and beckons him inside. In his dad's hand, there’s another newspaper, and he recognises the front page of _Ba Sing Se Daily._

At least, Sokka thinks, he’s not on the front of that one. Sokka doesn’t want to think about how his dad got an Earth Kingdom newspaper here when the event in question happened yesterday. He’d blame Suki for that, but she’s not best pleased with him either. She never is when he almost-accidentally-sort-of causes international incidents on her watch.

Hakoda clears his throat, head tilted down slightly to place Sokka directly under that stare. The one that makes him want to just be his best self. Better than he was yesterday. “Do you have anything to say for yourself that can possibly make what happened yesterday alright?”

“I tripped!” Sokka protests, and it’s the feeblest excuse he’s ever had, but it’s all he’s really got without going on a rant about Zuko. “And he- he pushed-,”

“Sokka,” his dad cuts him off with a sharp shake of his head. Blaming Zuko is, apparently, not the answer. He purses his lips, eyes skimming over the text of whatever awful spin _BSS Daily_ have put on the incident. “‘This is not the first altercation between Prince Zuko and the First Son of the Southern Water Tribe, and animosity has seemingly been growing since Sokka’s dad was elected as High Chief of the Water Tribe. The public is forced to wonder whether these icy relations are the reason for the recently observed distance between the two nations.’”

Personally, Sokka thinks the ice pun was a bit below the belt, but it makes him chuckle anyway. He thinks his dad's private secretary is about to snap their pen in half. His dad on the other hand, calmly folds the paper, and sets it down on the side of his desk, but he’s equally unamused by Sokka’s actions.

While it’s rarely something he does on purpose, he’s aggravated his dad before, he knows he must have. He’s even more known for pissing his dad’s colleagues off, from here to Republic City. He’s no stranger to barging into offices and arguing for innovation and ideas, but that’s usually in the interests of striving for something good.

This is just a disaster, and he doesn’t blame his dad for being disappointed. If he lets himself dwell on it too much he knows that, as much as he’s angry at Zuko, he’s disappointed in himself too.

“Sokka, I love you. If you say this wasn’t your fault, I believe you,” he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “But the newspapers do not care, and the Northern Water Tribe are just looking for reasons to take the leadership back in the next election.”

Sokka knows this. He knows this, and yet he’d done exactly what Katara had told him not to. He has fucked up in the past, with his tendency to put his mouth before his brain, but never quite so catastrophically. Never on an international scale has Sokka been such a disaster, and it would almost be impressive if it weren’t so mortifyingly awful.

“Osha has come up with a plan,” Sokka swallows, and shrinks away from the somewhat withering look they are throwing his way. Osha is lovely, and very good at their job as Hakoda’s private secretary, but Sokka despite his best efforts is always finding ways to complicate that job. He supposes that explains the glare. “You’re going to go to Caldera.”

He flips the binder open so it’s facing Sokka. The first page says _TERMS OF AGREEMENT_ and Sokka can feel the bundle of dread growing in his stomach once again.

“Dad-,”

“You’re leaving tomorrow,” Sokka understands from his voice that there’s little room for argument. Their life had always been full of room for Sokka and Katara, and his dad was more than willing to let the two of them say their piece about how they were feeling, or what they were thinking. But this is on no uncertain terms teetering on an international catastrophe, and his dad can’t indulge Sokka’s feelings this time. “You’ll be back the evening after, so you don’t miss class.”

There goes that argument then.

Sokka’s gaze flickers back up from the paper to his dad's face. He’s not mad: Hakoda never is. But he’s trying to run a nation, and Sokka can see he’s disappointed.

“Suki is going to have to talk you through the rest of the plan,” he glances at her briefly, before looking back down at Sokka, clamping a hand on his shoulder. “I have a meeting to go to, but we’ll all have dinner when you’re back.”

Sokka’s brain is still whirring, trying to process the dumbest idea his dad’s administration team has come up with yet. When he meets his Hakoda's gaze, he’s smiling softly, but in that way that makes Sokka wonder if he wishes Sokka could be just a bit more on top of things, just some of the time. “Love you, son. Try not to put us at war with the Fire Nation.”

After his dad is gone, and Osha has trailed after him, Sokka lets out a heavy breath. Suki pats him consolingly on the back. Reaching over him for the binder, she flicks over the first page and perches on the desk. It’s always odd to see her go into business mode because she’s his _friend_ too. One of the best agents the neutral political entity of Kyoshi had to offer, and she was barely a year older than him and Yue. But there’s something about the way her eyebrows set when she’s getting down to business, and solving international problems with diplomacy, and there’s nothing anyone can do but listen to her.

“Alright, so, you ready, you big dumbass?”

Sokka has no choice but to nod.

“I sorted this out with the Kyoshi agents stationed in Caldera, and Osha dealt with the prince’s assistant, who might be the scariest woman either of us has ever met. So I want you to know how much of pain in our asses this was to sort out.”

He nods again, but Suki is clearly unconvinced, because she takes what he can only assume is a calming deep breath and whacks him lightly on the arm with the binder. “Come on, Sokka,” she says, “walk with me.”

It’s easier to talk, for some reason, and not feel like as much of a disaster when he’s on the move. Keeping up with Suki’s quick pace as she guides him back to the residential side of the palace. It’s not busy today, so there’s no one to overhear their stupid plan, because when she explains it at length, he can’t help but feel like it is a stupid plan.

“I’m _sorry?_ You want me to _what?!”_

“Listen,” Suki sighs, unimpressed by his outburst, and pinching the bridge of her nose, “my colleagues who work in the Fire Nation say it’s just as bad for them as it is for us. You ruined the heir to the throne’s _wedding,_ Sokka. By starting a spat with the _other heir to the throne.”_

“I didn’t start-,”

“ _Sokka!”_ Suki grabs his sleeve, and under her sharp eyeliner, he can see her exasperation.

“You’re asking me to pretend to be best friends with that asshole, when you know full well he’s been nothing but awful to me since the day we met!”

“You _care_ about your dad and this election, Sokka! I know you do,” she says imploringly, “So you make nice with the Prince of the Fire Nation. Hate him all you want, but when you see a camera, or a reporter, you act like you’re head over fucking heels, okay?”

“But he’s such a-,”

“Sokka if you call him a jerk one more time I swear on Kyoshi, I will end you right now.”

The niggling, guilty part of him that’s been feeling awful since yesterday _knows_ this is a good plan. He kind of hates that it’s a good plan, and that it will help anyone with a moderate view on international relations stop fretting about whether voting for Hakoda as Chief will have them penguin-sledding at full speed towards open hostility with the Fire Nation. The strategist in him can’t help but think of how it could boost his Dad’s polling numbers, if his son has a good relationship with the Prince of the Fire Nation, rather than an awful one that sees the two of them dominating the news cycle in infamy every time they’re in the same room together.

It’s just that Sokka can’t help but remember the cold aloofness on the other boy’s face last night, and the spark of anger and something else in his eyes as he-

Suki presses the binder into his hands and pulls him quite effectively out of his own thoughts.

“Enjoy learning about your new best friend,” she says, “you’ve only got all night.”

Then she leaves him standing in the hallway outside the door to the family bedrooms, with a folder full of information he wishes he didn’t have to know, and a photograph of Zuko’s perfectly irritating face pinned to the top of it.

The Northern Tribe has always put the chief’s children a little in the spotlight. Yue got used to it growing up, and though both their parents were on councils growing up, Sokka and Katara had never really had the opportunity before their dad's first election campaign. Being able to let the public into your family life wasn’t something Chief candidates had really done before. So Katara and Sokka had to work out how to do it well.

 _Water Tribe Trio_ was a term officially coined by _Varricks_ sometime during his dad's campaign. Tested on focus groups just like everything else about them during the election season, before it was fed directly to _Varricks,_ and some clever PR person made the Chief Editor think it was his idea.

When they joined with Arnook, and by extension Yue, they all realised they were onto something. They could be _cool._ Politics, leadership, caring about the tribe and how it was run, getting people excited about it. That’s _powerful._

So for the press, for the world, they became the Water Tribe Trio. Cool and upstanding. But in the games room that Sokka and Katara share in their wing of the residence, three floors up where no one can bother them, they don’t have to be anyone other than who they are. Sokka, Katara, and Yue. Joined more often than not by an off-duty Suki who always insists she’s _just here for the snacks._

Sokka innovates. Katara gives them hope. Yue keeps them reasonable. And Suki keeps them steady. The four of them intertwined for better or for worse, and in a way that only they can understand.

They're often found as they are now: a battered blanket spread over Sokka’s legs which are sprawled out on top of Yue, his heels just brushing Suki who’s scrolling through salesbay on her phone. Katara’s cross legged on the floor, trapped in a video game battle with Yue, both of them leaning forward; intent and cursing as they hit the final lap of the race they’re playing.

Sokka is practically horizontal, skimming the too-thick booklet balanced upright in his lap, and trying to work out how the fuck he’s supposed to memorise it before tomorrow.

He flips a page in the binder, the _PRINCE ZUKO FACT SHEET,_ and squints, before giving up and letting his head loll back over the arm of the sofa.

“Holy crap guys,” Suki says, “I can get 200 marbles for 5 yuans!”

“Shit!”

“YES!”

“ _Guys,”_ Sokka whines, the noise overwhelmingly unhelpful as Yue and Katara finish their race. He drops the binder spread open over his face. Perhaps if he tries hard enough, he can absorb half a hundred mind numbingly dull facts about Prince Zuko by osmosis alone?

He thinks about the facts he knows about the three girls in the room with him. Not Katara so much, because she’s his baby sister and that’s different, and of course he knows her favourite colour, and her favourite mover, and what her hobbies are. He knows these things about Yue too, but they aren’t just dull facts listed on a sheet. That’s not what being someone’s _best_ friend is.

It’s knowing that on the days when she’s got a migraine, she’ll go lie in the coldest, darkest room in the house and that’s where Sokka can bring her ginger tea. It’s knowing that Suki always carries a knife, but she’s always got a sewing kit too and she likes to cross stitch when there’s nothing threatening their life. It’s knowing that Katara always steals his shirts when she’s stressed about her projects, and that she’s not taken off their mother’s necklace since she was six years old. If someone wants to catch him in a lie pretending to be _buddies_ with Prince Zuko, it won’t be because he doesn’t know his favourite book is _In the Arms of Agni._

“Once again, you brought this on yourself,” Suki says, nudging his foot with her knee, not looking up from whatever ridiculous deals she’s finding on salesbay. It’s a hobby shared between the four of them and is solely responsible for the collection of oddities in one of Sokka’s cupboards. During the Republic City representative elections a year and a half ago, a vintage pair of special edition crocs had inexplicably shown up at the campaign office where he was interning. Piandao had been confused but understanding.

It’s what Sokka wishes he could be doing right now, but instead he lifts the binder off his face, as Katara shuts the game off and Yue pats his leg sympathetically.

“Do you want us to help?”

She smiles so sweetly, offering out her hands for the accursed binder, and Sokka slides it over willingly. She runs her finger down the page, and Sokka knows she already has comprehended more of it than he ever will.

“Alright, easy question,” she nods, “Who are his parents?”

It’s so trivial Sokka knows it already. It’s not the kind of thing that will come up in an interview, and he hopes even if it did he wouldn’t get it wrong anyway. But he indulges her attempt to ease him into this.

“Prince Zuko is the son of Former Prince Ozai, who retired from public life six years ago, and Lady Ursa Hiyama, a former actress best known for her role in _The Players of Hira’a._ She passed away when the Prince was 13.”

It sounds like he’s reciting a WanShiTong article, and he might as well be. The fact list is dull as paint. But Katara takes it off Yue, and her eyes skim over it as she finds a question for him instead.

“What is the name of his pet, and what animal is it?”

Katara sounds much more gleeful about quizzing her older brother. Like a host on an awful daytime tv game show they would watch back in the days where they had time to do that kind of thing.

Sokka opens his mouth to answer, but falters over the question. He’d just _seen_ this. It had been on the page right in front of him, but he could not for the life of him conjure up the answer. What were common Fire Nation pets? What would he call one if he were an uninventive, cardboard-cutout, snooty Prince?

“A hawk…” he manages to sound sure and uncertain at the same time, and Katara raises an eyebrow at him, turning to face him properly, “…called Hawky.”

Suki and Yue both snort with laughter, and he knows he got the answer wrong but perhaps he tried too hard. Hawky _was_ a good name for a bird after all.

“I’m sorry, our survey says that is _incorrect,”_ Katara sounds entirely too gleeful as she says it. As his little sister, it’s a point of pride to undermine her brother like this. _“_ Would you like to phone a friend?”

Yue leans over his legs to pull the binder back out of Katara’s grip so she won’t keep teasing him. Her eyes scan the page, and he looks on expectantly for her to give him the answer.

“Oh, that’s _cool,”_ she breathes when she finds it. Sokka would really like it if someone could actually tell him the answers to this quiz that’s important to him and trivial to the rest of them. “He has a dragon-lizard, named Druk.”

Yue explains, and of _course_ the Prince of the Fire Nation has a spiritsdamned dragon-lizard. Sokka hadn’t gone basic enough. Named _Druk_ of all things.

“Next Question!” he calls bitterly.

She tilts the binder so he can see it. “Who are these people?” There’s a photo he recognises from Zuko’s social media – because following the social media account of his archnemesis is perfectly normal. It’s the Prince looking maybe the most relaxed Sokka has ever seen him, wrapped under the arm of a short girl with dark hair and grey eyes pulling him to her height. Laughing beside them is a boy with blue arrow tattoos and a bright orange jacket. Zuko himself is smiling sheepishly at whoever is behind the camera.

Ah, he knows this one.

“Toph Bei Fong, heir to Earthen Fire industries and pro-earthbending champion. Utterly terrifying,” she doesn’t look it, but Sokka’s been to pro-earthbending matches in republic city. He knows that despite her small stature, Toph is devastatingly powerful. Perhaps he shouldn’t be so determined to stay on the bad side of her best friend.

His eyes flicker to the other boy in the picture. “Aang Yangtso. Renowned Air Nomad and civil rights activist. They’re Zuko’s best friends.” He recites and tries to imagine Zuko learning these things about him and his friends. How would he sum up Katara and Yue in a couple of short sentences?

“Hey Suki, did you send one of these to the Fire Nation?”

“Yes,” she says, levelling him a Look over the top of her phone, “Sokka Qanniq. Incapable of wearing matching socks. Good at maths. Listens exclusively to disco. Thought parfait was a cheese.”

Laughter rings through the room as Sokka pouts at Suki. A tiny grin tugs at the corner of her mouth and Yue gives his leg another consoling pat. The fact that Suki is right about all those things only serves to further prove his point, though. Those are the things a best friend would know. He doesn’t know these things about Zuko.

Groaning, he opens the binder again. Yue frowns softly, her brow knitting together in that way he’s so familiar with.

“Why’s this bothering you so much?”

“Because I don’t want him to be better than me!”

“Hey!” Suki points at him warningly, “That better not be the only reason!”

“Fine, and because I don’t want to ruin Suki and Osha’s brilliant plan, happy?”

“I’m gonna send these 200 marbles to your house one by one, jackass.”

It’s _hot_ in Caldera, as he walks down the steps off the private high-speed airship the Fire Nation sent to collect him. A gesture of goodwill between two _best buds._ Even in his light linen blazer, and the sun starting to droop in the sky, Sokka is sweating before he’s even got two feet on the ground. And it’s not even _summer._

Two women meet them at the edge of the airstrip. One with a fan-shaped pin on her lapel, the same as Suki’s, and the other with a suit so sharp, and a vaguely bored expression on her face, is holding a black leather bound binder. The kind of binder Sokka recognises as holding permission forms and NDAs and yet more terms of what he is and isn’t allowed to be or do as Zuko’s “friend.”

As they meet, she gives him a look more withering than even Osha has ever managed, before holding out a hand with immaculately manicured, knife-sharp nails. Sokka takes it for fear of what she might do if he doesn’t.

“I’m Mai, Prince Zuko’s assistant.” She offers her hand to Suki as well, before gesturing to the other woman beside her. “This is Ty Lee, she coordinates Prince Zuko’s security.”

They could not be more polar opposites. Her long braid is pulled over her shoulder, and her lips are an alarmingly bright shade of pink, that if Sokka didn’t _know_ she must be a Kyoshi guard, he wouldn’t have found her threatening at all.

“It’s so nice to meet you in person!” Ty Lee says to Suki, still grinning wide, then she turns to Sokka, “And you! You looked so cute in all the photos from the wedding!”

Cute was one word for utterly mortified that Sokka hadn’t heard before. He fights the urge to grimace and tilts his head.

“Uh… thank you?”

Sighing – Sokka gets the feeling he’s going to hear her do a lot of disdainful sighing over his ‘ _friendship’_ with Prince Zuko – Mai turns sharply on her heel, and heads back in the direction of the satomobile. Suki elbows him in the side, and he realises somewhat belatedly he’s meant to be following her. Stumbling over his feet slightly, he tries to catch up.

Ty Lee makes sure his luggage in the back of the satomobile that he assumes is headed towards the palace. Cautiously, he wonders where the other satomobile, the one he’s being ushered towards, is going. Mai opens the door for him, giving an impatient look, as Suki and Ty Lee slide into the front. It’s blessedly cool inside, but Sokka still can’t relax.

Suki must have been briefed on where they’re headed, or she wouldn’t have let him get in the satomobile. He’s not about to be shipped off to some awful Fire Nation prison for ruining the wedding of the Crown Prince. Staring out the window distracted as they pull out onto the streets of the Royal Caldera City, Sokka jumps when Mai drops the heavy binder in his lap. He’s slightly sick of being handed binders.

“You need to sign those,” she says, holding out a pen as she scrolls through her phone with the other hand. “And you’ll find the itinerary for the weekend in the front pocket.

He flips it open and sure enough the itinerary, a repeated list of the terms, and the NDA he had expected since he was first told he was faking a friendship with the prince of the Fire Nation are all inside. As if this is a perfectly normal aspect of life, and not just another bizarre turn for Sokka’s life to have gone in.

He signs the NDA without really reading it. He would, usually, but he trusts that Suki wouldn’t let him sign anything that _wasn’t_ above board. Besides, he’s already agreed to be here, it’s not like he can refuse the NDA, bail on the whole business, and catch the next high-speed airship back to Harbour City.

He does pull out the itinerary.

In her irritation with him, mixed with her fond exasperation, Suki’s been fairly tight-lipped about what he’s expected to get up to this weekend. He did wonder if that’s because a very frantic team of aides and interns were all scrambling to pull this together and make it look as seamless as possible. It’s full of awfully public things; photo ops with local and international papers; an interview on the main FN Network; a visit to the Royal Caldera Trust Children’s Shelter. The kind of carefully manufactured image-making that Sokka is familiar enough with to absolutely loathe. The thing that catches his attention, however, is listed directly after his arrival.

  1. _Rendezvous with HRH at Caldera Palace training ground._



Sokka tries to process the fact that he’s being taken to a _training ground_ to pick up the _prince._ It almost sounds like he’s some prince in a cheesy, mid-century, period piece. What can _training ground_ even mean? What is the Prince training _in?_ Or _for?_

As soon as he asks Mai, he can understand what Suki meant about her being one of the scariest people she had ever met. That smirk is wicked. She shrugs, and goes back to her phone, the light ‘click’ of her long nails the only audible sound in the car.

“You’ll see.”

And see he does.

He’s seen people run through firebending katas before. Performance bending features in the kind of shows his family gets invited to in Republic City. When they finally rock up to the private, royal training facilities, he’s expecting a demure Zuko, not a hair out of place, as he moves through firebending forms which Sokka is sure would be interesting if it was anyone other than Zuko doing them.

This is not what Sokka gets.

Prince Zuko has two swords, fucking _broadswords,_ one in each hand, and is twirling far from delicately but with obvious power and grace. Glorious against the low sun of the Fire Nation, looking for all the world like an actual action mover prince. His shoulder length black hair swishing as he twists into another arc with the swords, a few strands loose around his face from the topknot that it is half pulled into. His outfit far more casual than anything Sokka has ever seen him in. Instead of stiff formal clothes, it’s tight black workout clothes that pull unfairly against his chest and end at his biceps. He moves like water, fluid and breath-taking.

When he turns and spots them, the calm look on Zuko’s face shifts for the tiniest second before he, apparently, remembers there’s going to be a photographer and that he can’t let that look turn into haughty disdain. His grip on the swords tightens from loose, almost casual, and fluid, to tight and strained, Sokka can see it in his knuckles, as he walks over towards them, and sets them back in the rack at the edge of the marked ground of the courtyard.

Zuko says nothing as he walks up to them. Face the same carefully guarded neutral mask that Sokka can recognise from the wedding and half a dozen interactions over the years. Sokka in turn, grins brightly, determined to make a point of being the better showman here. He sticks his arm out, and Zuko wraps his palm around Sokka’s forearm and, for Tui and La, the man doesn’t even appear to have broken a sweat with all his fancy sword bullshit. His hand, his whole arm in-fact, is warm though. Zuko seems to radiate warmth even with the dying heat of the day. If only just a little of that would come out in his personality.

“Sokka.”

“Zuko.”

“Remember you’re enjoying yourselves, boys,” Mai calls from a distance away, standing with Suki and Ty Lee out of the line of the shots the obligatory cameraperson they called is lining up. This is supposed to be _candid_ for goodness sake, but even though Zuko manages to soften his face into something friendly, there’s still a taut line in his shoulders. Sokka doubts it’s because he forgot to stretch before the fancy sword nonsense.

Zuko’s eyes flicker to her, before he manages to laugh. He even makes it look genuine. Sokka, not one to be outdone and especially not by a jumped up little prince, uses his grip on Zuko to pull him into a one armed manly hug and slaps him just a little too hard on the back, grinning all the while. To the cameras and hopefully to the readers of the _Caldera Post,_ it’ll look like the kind of friendly, overly masculine posturing that allegedly got them into this mess. But the cameras can’t hear them.

“Let go of me right now, peasant,” Zuko hisses in his ear, just making Sokka’s grip tighten briefly.

“Get fucked, your highness.”

“You offering?”

Sokka lets him go, shocked at the bite in the Prince’s voice. It’s a moment of snark such that he’d expect from Suki, with her quick sharp wit, and even Zuko seems surprised he’s said it. Before either of them can let the surprise show on their face, however, a camera shutter clicks audibly over from where the _Caldera Post_ photographer is standing, watching them intently, and Sokka just laughs. Like Zuko has said the funniest thing in the world.

The awkward atmosphere of this false, happy reunion is only able to last a few more moments, before Zuko’s immaculately scheduled and controlled life seems to cut in.

“Prince Zuko.” Mai says, observing her sharp nails with a keen disinterest. She looks how Sokka feels, like she wants to be doing anything in the world but this. “The photographer has got what they want. If you and your _friend_ are ready the satomobile’s waiting.”

“It’s _weird,_ Yue… and it’s so _hot.”_ Sokka whines, holding the phone out in front of him as he paces around the rooms he’s been allocated. It’s entirely too much, considering that he’s only here for one night and also probably hovering near the top of the Fire Nation royal family’s most hated list right now.

Yue looks sympathetic, buried in warm blankets in her Harbor City apartment. “Only you would go to the Fire Nation then complain about the _weather,_ Sokka,” she says fondly. “I meant what’s it _like?_ The Fire Nation Palace is a fascinating historical building, you know.”

“Yes, _Sifu_ Yue, I know how much of a history nerd you are.”

She’s an everything-nerd, it’s why they got on so well. He pokes his head out of the bedroom into the lounge space. Plush furnishings and soft red hangings everywhere. He spins round with the camera phone in his hand, holding it up so she can see it. It’s not fancier than the guest quarters at home, or in the other places he’s stayed before, it’s just all so very _Fire Nation._ From the dried fire lily petals in a bowl on the table to the dragon embellishments that seem to be just about everywhere.

“It’s nice!” she insists, “I’m glad they’re making you comfortable.”

“Yes, because my comfort is the top priority here.” Sokka rolls his eyes, but before they can get into another discussion about how this is his own fault, he does what he does best and deflects. Flopping down onto soft red cushions. “Whatever, tell me about _your_ day instead.”

“Well…,” she hesitates but indulges his obvious subject change, “I’ve been looking at RCU courses again. I think, after this next campaign is over and our dads are settled, it might be time to look into a doctorate? Perhaps computer science? I don’t know, though, it’s all a bit much at the moment.”

Sokka nods sympathetically but can’t help the encouraging grin on his face. “Well you know I’ll support you! You and I can get a nice little _young professionals_ apartment and-,”

Sokka cuts off.

There is a sound from the corridor; a door unmistakably opening and closing. Perhaps the Fire Nation royal family _have_ decided to have him killed in his sleep after all. He wonders, if he yelled, if Suki would get here fast enough to save his skin. He likes to think he could hold his own, but he’d rather not leave his dad with an even bigger diplomatic disaster to sort out by dying in the Fire Nation palace. Still, he can’t help but go investigate.

“Sokka?”

Ignoring Yue’s questioning call of his name, he grabs his dressing gown and slips out into the hallway. It leads down to a kitchenette, another guest room he knows Suki is occupying just down and to the left, and on the right, a door leads out to a balcony overlooking the palace garden. The attendant had shown him and Suki when they’d arrived earlier in the evening. He takes a step towards the door, peering through the glass half of the panel.

There is someone on his balcony.

No.

Prince _Zuko_ is on his balcony.

“Hang on, Yue, I’ll call you back.”

Sokka cuts off Yue’s indignant protest as he disconnects the call, sliding it into his pocket as it immediately starts to buzz with notifications from her. 

The cold night air hits him as he steps outside, and he shivers, but Zuko hasn’t seemed to notice his presence. The scarred side of his face is closest to Sokka, and he feels guilty again for inadvertently sneaking up on him – even if he is an ass.

“Uh, hello,” Zuko jumps. He whirls sharply, his eyes wide and stunned and hesitant, until he sees that it’s Sokka.

He blinks, confused.

Zuko looks different than Sokka has ever seen him, with his hair in a short braid just visible over his shoulder, he’s almost silver against the moonlight and what looks like an old t-shirt with a graphic on it is juxtaposed to the far more ornate silky red and gold robe Zuko wears over it. Sokka can see a retainer case just by the side of him, next to a lightly steaming mug of what can only be coffee from the smell of it – even at this hour. A still burning cigarette hangs from his hand. Zuko looks... _soft._

He looks human.

Sokka falters, taking a step backwards towards the sliding door, but doesn’t actually turn to leave because somehow that would make this more awkward. Instead he just sort of hovers, pulling his dressing gown a bit closer as a soft, cool breeze blows past them both.

The embers on the end of Zuko’s cigarette blaze slightly, and the smell of it drifts towards him on the wind. Less acrid than the cigarette smells of Republic City, he can’t help but note.

“You smoke.” Sokka says, drily.

“Not publicly.”

Zuko stubs the cigarette and flicks it off the balcony before Sokka can stop him. As if he is afraid of being caught. That’s one of the things covered by the NDA, then. An awkward silence blankets over the two of them again, thick and stifling as neither leaves and neither can make sense of this interaction. Sokka can’t handle awkward silences, he’s too used to being loud and filling up the spaces that he’s in.

“Why are you…?”

 _Here?_ Sokka wants to say. Why is Zuko, who lives here, and could pick any balcony in the palace, on the balcony of the guest wing? Why has he decided Sokka’s balcony is the perfect place for his night-time cigarette and-

“And why are you drinking _coffee_ at 2 in the morning?”

“I- uh- Azula, she’s-,” Zuko sighs and rubs at the back of his neck, clearly finding the words to explain his presence is too difficult. The prince’s shoulder’s rise and fall, and he turns back to the view over the garden. His long fingers curl back round the cup of coffee. “I didn’t want Princess Azula to find me smoking. She’s under the impression that I have stopped.”

He sounds almost scared of Azula catching him, beneath the tightness of his words. Sokka doesn’t blame him. The princess was not around the palace today, apparently. Or at least, that’s what they had told him. Sokka thought it was highly more likely she had not found him worth her time. Zuko may come across as aloof, and icily neutral in almost every public interaction, but Azula makes him look like the friendliest Prince Charming by comparison.

And she’d been known to set a reporter’s sleeve on fire more than once.

Still, who’s Sokka to judge? He’s done a million weird things just because he didn’t want Katara to catch him.

“Ah, so you’re hiding.” Sokka nods, and it looks for a second as if Zuko wants desperately to argue, but there is clearly some truth in the statement, because he nods.

“Something like that,” he concedes, and Sokka smiles briefly. Something about him being scared of his little sister makes him less awful, for some reason. It’s something tolerable to have in common, for once.

“Are you ready for tomorrow?” The implication that Sokka’s unprofessional coming hard and fast in Zuko’s tone ruins the tolerability in an instant.

“Yes, I know perfectly well how to handle a TV appearance, thank you.”

“I only meant-,” Zuko starts to mutter, but clearly thinks better of it. “I just don't want to be unconvincing. There’s a lot riding on this for both of our nations.”

Sokka isn’t quite sure what he means, he’s not really considered that the Fire Nation might have a problem with their Prince being rivals with the First Son of the Water Tribes. Perhaps they can’t afford to have their image damaged by something like a petty international rivalry. Perhaps the Fire Nation obsession with honor is demanding some sort of explanation for the _dishonorable_ shenanigans at the wedding.

“You want to make this convincing?” he raises an eyebrow, “Come here.”

He steps forward and throws a casual arm round Zuko, sliding his phone out of his pocket and onto the camera function as he does so. Zuko is too surprised to stop him, tensing just slightly under Sokka’s touch. His bewilderment almost translates to the photograph and makes Sokka snort as he sees it.

It’s a selfie of the two of them, a good one. Enough that their _‘friendship’_ looks realistic. Sokka knows other photos of Zuko like this must exist; not the perfectly structured prince, but a 20-something just like him - right down to the nerdy t-shirt and the hair rumpled from tossing and turning. Yet even if these photos do exist, somewhere else, Sokka is sure he’s never seen one. He doesn’t think of the implications of that as he posts it to his social media.

“See? Easy.”

Zuko is studying him thoughtfully and carefully, but he tries to ignore that as he swipes away a notification from Yue. He knows if he doesn’t get back to her soon, that she’ll start to worry. Maybe enough to bother Suki, which he doesn’t really want to deal with at 2 am.

When he looks back up, Zuko is looking pensively into his coffee, and the silence is back. Whatever he is overthinking now, whether it’s about the post or the appearances they’ve set up for tomorrow, Sokka decides he does not want or need to know. Instead he rolls his eyes and turns back towards the door.

“Goodnight, Prince Zuko.”

His phone is already ringing Yue as he leaves, but he doesn’t miss the quiet, “Goodnight, Sokka,” that follows him back inside.

Sokka has never watched much Fire Nation television. Reruns of _Love on Ember Island_ that he caught last summer when he crashed into his tiny apartment at 2am last summer in Republic city, don’t really count. But like everything else on this trip, it happens in a blur, and he’s shoved out under the stage lights, a thin layer of makeup caked on his face and his hair all neatly combed back into its wolftail, and a bubbling feeling in his gut.

For the son of a world leader, public speaking is hardly his strongest point. He can do political schmoozing. Smiling at important guests and the perfect investor and ‘have you _heard_ we’re campaigning for this, ambassador?’ More than that, he can strategize. Even at sixteen, his dad's head campaign coordinators had called him an incredible asset, when he and Yue simultaneously and almost single handedly organised an outreach project in the Northern Water Tribe. He’s good at that sort of thing.

But under the harsh, hot lights on the set that looks like an immaculate living room, sitting across from a host who looks like she wants to eat him for breakfast, an uncomfortable wave of nerves rolls through his stomach. 

Zuko, beside him on the couch, looks for all the world like he’s as perfectly at home here as he was on the balcony last night. _Where on_ earth _did he find his calm?_ Sokka cannot fathom it. He manages to be charming, perfect posture and all, looking fresh in his dark burgundy button down and rolled sleeves. Hair silky smooth hair neatly tied back again and jawline looking perfect in the well angled lighting.

Whatever, fine. Zuko is annoyingly attractive. That’s always been a thing, objectively. It’s fine.

Sokka tries hard to push this thought down as the producer starts counting them in from next to one of the cameras. He’d told Zuko last night that he could handle a TV appearance, that he could make this convincing. He smiles his Politics Smile at the host, and makes a show of looking comfortable in Zuko’s company. As comfortable as he does on late night shows with Yue. It’s the exact same, he tells himself as the countdown hits zero even though it’s absolutely not.

The audience claps them in, and Sokka tries not to think about how this is all a lie.

Sokka loves helping people. His dad does too, and his mother, when she was alive. Katara can’t go five minutes without giving speeches about hope, and peace, and harmony at campaign rallies. Helping people and caring-too-much is in his blood. Most of the time he loves sorting out the things that are wrong with the world, and doing things like helping out children in shelters. 

Watching Zuko awkwardly shake hands with a kid at the Royal Caldera Trust Children’s Shelter, however, as they both pose for some terribly staged photograph, he can’t help but wonder whether or not this is actually helping anyone. 

Sokka is legally required to be here, and to be here without complaint. It was in the terms of the agreement and there’s too many photographers and reporters looking for cracks in this weekend, so there’s nothing he can do. Nothing but focus on the kids. 

Most of them don’t know him, so he lets Zuko introduce him as the son of the Water Tribe chief. They ask him questions about penguin-otters and snow, and ‘is it _really that cold?!’_ and Sokka laughs and indulges them. He unpacks books from the heavy boxes they’ve brought, sits in a tiny children’s chair and reads a storybook to a group of four year olds, and tries to ignore the photographer trailing after him. 

It’s not until the kids he’s talking to are ushered off for nap time, that he turns to find that Zuko has wandered out of this common room. It doesn’t take long to locate him, the low softness of his voice easy to follow to another room on the same floor. 

The door is wide open, but looking inside Sokka can see no photographers. No bullshit staged photograph. Just Zuko, sat in a beanbag far too small for him, and a little boy with a wide grin and a name sticker on his chest reading ‘ _Lee’_ , telling him all about his favourite movers, from the sound of it. The awkwardness that usually surrounds Zuko is gone. It looks, for the first time that Sokka has ever seen it, like Zuko is enjoying a conversation. 

Sokka cannot find it within himself to look away, instead he’s transfixed, loitering by the doorway as he indulges this child.

“-but my all time favourite is _Love Amongst the Dragons!”_ Lee is saying excitedly, and Sokka watches as Zuko’s face brightens even more. Lee is exuberant, proud of the reaction he’s gained from the prince, and still talking at a hundred miles a minute. 

“My favourite character was the Dragon Emperor! He’s so _cool!_ ” he buzzes on, and Zuko nods sagely, still smiling. _Love Amongst The Dragons_ was hardly something Sokka expected to know about to have as much of an opinion on as it appears he does. But he _knows_ Zuko’s not good enough of an actor to be feigning an interest for the benefit of some random child. “Who’s your favourite character?”

Zuko falters, and it’s almost unnoticeable, but Sokka saw it. He shifts slightly, before Lee can catch it though, and offers a small smile instead. “My mother always loved the Blue Spirit. And so do I. Proof that you can be honorable in so many ways, in the things that you choose to do rather than what you’re expected to do. Just by being true to yourself.”

It might be one of the first truly honest things Sokka thinks he’s ever heard Zuko say. 

The moment is broken when one of the social workers Sokka recognises from downstairs clears her throat and Zuko jumps, eyes snapping towards the door. He meets Sokka’s gaze and his cheeks turn pink, the soft smile vanishing from his face as if it was never there. 

“Lee, it’s time for dinner, I’m sure you’ve taken up enough of the prince’s time.” 

“Miss Song, can Zuko stay for dinner?” The kid pleads, “Please, please, _please.”_

“Where are your _manners,_ Lee, this is the prince,” she dips her head towards Zuko, “I’m so sorry, Your Highness.”

“It’s alright,” he says, and he’s still blushing. He turns to smile at Lee, and gives him an awkward wave, before darting past Sokka out of the door.

“I’m impressed,” Sokka says, as they wait for the elevator at the opposite end of the hall. Zuko frowns at him and Sokka shakes his head. “Not impressed, just, um… surprised?”

“At what?”

“That you actually have feelings.”

“Right, of course,” Zuko laughs sharply as the two of them step into the lift. “You know I-,” 

Zuko cuts off as the lift gives an unfortunate shudder as it descends, it’s movement stutters, stops, and then the lights flicker out. Sokka’s heart jumps uncomfortably at the sudden darkness, the tension rising under his skin as his eyes refuse to adjust to the total absence of light, save for a small, red, glowing emergency square. Until a small bundle of flames erupts in Zuko’s palm

“Are you _kidding_ me?” he growls, glaring at Sokka – as if this is somehow his fault and not whatever ridiculously shoddy Fire Nation craftsmanship allows for things like _lift failures._

“Hey maybe it’s an attempt to kill us both,” Sokka’s false enthusiasm is too loud for the small space, too obnoxious in the dark, the pair of them lit only by the flickering in Zuko’s hand. “Perhaps they know locking us in here there’s a chance we’ll finish each other off.”

Zuko scowls, shifting uncomfortably in the small lift. 

“Would it kill _you_ to shut up for once in your _life,”_ he hisses, before exhaling tightly. Sokka can’t help but wonder if someone’s made an attempt on his life before. He sounds very much like he wants to punch Sokka, or maybe throw the fireball at him, but before he gets the chance, the lift shudders again and drops what can only be a few more feet, but it sends Sokka stumbling forward against Zuko.

The flame in his palm flickers out as Sokka uses Zuko to catch his fall, and Zuko lets out a yelp before they’re both falling to the floor. Again. 

“We have got to stop ending up like this,” Sokka says, as Zukos’s hair brushes his cheek. 

“You’re so _annoying,”_ Zuko sounds strangled, one hand braced against Sokka’s shoulder and the other on the floor beside him. He’s got Sokka pinned down, in his attempt to keep himself from landing entirely on top of him. “Our lives are in danger and you’re making _jokes.”_

“I hardly think our lives are _actually_ in danger, your highness.” The title always sounds like an insult when Sokka says it. “But it’s nice to know you care. Between this and the smoking, I’ve got you all worked out.” 

Zuko exhales, and pushes off him, staying sullenly quiet as he retreats to the opposite corner of the lift and relights the fire in his palm. Sokka sits up, and pulling his knees to his chest he realises the weirdest part is that it’s _true._

Not completely, of course, but in the last 24 hours in the Fire Nation, he’s got more glimpses into who Zuko actually is than he ever could have gotten from studying that fact sheet in its entirety. Sokka’s always been able to understand people, it’s something he prides himself on. All the facts he has stored away about his best friends and his sister are one thing, but part of being a politician is understanding _strangers._

He doesn’t _like_ that he’d apparently read Zuko wrong. 

The minutes pass by, and the lights don’t come back but the lift doesn’t move again. Sokka’s phone has no signal, but he knows that with both of them missing, someone - namely Suki - will be freaking out by now. Someone will be working out that they’re stuck in here. 

He glances over at Zuko again. His eyes are closed and his legs crossed in front of him as the flame flickers in time with his breathing. It’s all too calm and quiet for Sokka.

“So, uh, movers?”

“What?” Zuko’s eyes open, and immediately narrow at Sokka. Clearly, he hadn’t come off as casually as he intended. 

“Movers,” Sokka says again, “I never heard you tell the kid your favourite one.” 

Zuko arches a disbelieving eyebrow at him. The attempt at casual conversation between them is beyond the realms of believability, perhaps. 

“What!” Sokka says defensively, “I just didn’t assume movers were a big thing for you. I assumed it was, you know, magic fire lessons and, apparently, learning to swing a sword around.” 

Sokka doesn’t say how cool he actually thinks the latter thing is. 

“It’s not magic fire, it’s _firebending,”_ Zuko says indignantly.

“Whatever, my point is, you _like_ pop culture, movers, all that. Like a _normal_ person, you have interests, but according to your fact sheet your favourite book is over 100 years old. So either, you’re pretending not to like interesting films like _Love Amongst the Dragons_ because you’re a prince and that’s not seemly, or you’re _trying_ to come across as this cultured, impressive snob - which you do amazingly, by the way.”

“I’m- I don’t appreciate being psychoanalyzed while we’re stuck in an elevator.”

“I’m not psychoanalyzing you, I’m trying to understand you!” Sokka exclaims, “You just told a little kid that being true to yourself made you honorable! So why are you always acting like you’re someone you’re not?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, and if I did, I’m sure it’s not your concern,” Zuko sounds strained, and his eyes flash. From Sokka’s short distance away, the gold is unmistakably glowing in the firelight.

“Right, of course you don’t,” Sokka rolls his own eyes, “You might not think it’s my concern, but us being ‘best friends’ doesn’t stop after I fly home this evening.”

Zuko looks puzzled, tense, but Sokka ploughs on anyway. 

“If we are never seen together again, you think people won’t know we were faking it? You and I are stuck together from here on out, _buddy._ So yeah, I want to know what your deal is so it doesn’t bite me in the ass later!”

“You want to talk about not understanding each other?” Zuko shakes his head, before meeting Sokka’s gaze dead on. He sounds exasperated, “I don’t understand why you hate me so much! You just never- It’s like you never even gave me a chance?”

“Harmonic Convergence.”

Sokka's voice is short and clipped as he says it, and he can almost hear the ‘ _oh’_ even if Zuko doesn’t actually murmur it aloud. He remembers it all in vivid detail. Going over to introduce himself, all of 17-years-old at his first Big Thing since his dad won the election. A weekend of photo opportunities, and handshakes, and big smiles and Zuko. Meeting Zuko for the first time.

“Right.”

“Yeah.”

“This is about-,”

“The way you turned to your guard and said _‘Can you get rid of him?’_ Yeah, it’s about that, Zuko!”

Sokka’s anger, five years of built up resentment, lays heavy in the space between them. 

“You weren’t supposed to hear that.”

“That’s not the point!” Sokka snaps, “The point is you were a jerk! And that’s not the only time.”

“Excuse me?”

Sokka pinches the bridge of his nose. Getting stuck in a lift with Zuko was not how he wanted to have this out. Quite frankly, he’d never wanted to have this out at all. He looks down at his own hands, fiddling nervously with his phone and lets out a heavy breath. 

“What we do is fucking _difficult,”_ he sighs _. “_ And I’m not- I’m always making mistakes and you. _You._ You’re so fucking perfect all the time. You’re like some spiritsdamned Prince Charming and I’m having to compete with that, in the eyes of the world. You’re always someone for me to be compared to, and no matter what I do, it’s like I’ll never be as good.” 

The silence drags out between them again, before Zuko clears his throat.. 

“I’m- That’s not- Some of that is not my fault, Sokka. But… I was... the Harmonic Convergence celebration was at a bad time for me, that year.” Even in the dim light of the cupboard, Sokka can see that he is struggling on the edge of something big. He almost wants to tell him that it’s fine, that they don’t have to get into it. Yet after the five years of thinly veiled animosity, he wouldn’t mind an explanation. “It was a week after the anniversary of my mother’s death, and I was... Well, I was kind of a jerk to everyone back then, you should ask my Uncle. Or Toph.”

He shakes his head and lets out a low, bitter chuckle. “And it was the first time anyone had seen me out of the Fire Nation since-,”

Zuko cuts himself off. Whatever the rest of the sentence is, it is too much for Zuko to say right now, but Sokka can work out from history what he means well enough. It was his first time out of the Fire Nation since whatever had happened to his face. At 16 years old, Zuko had vanished from the public eye for almost two years. All sorts of rumours had sprung up, he remembers Katara reading him the most far fetched and ridiculous ones from the _Caldera Mirror_. But then Zuko’s father, Prince Ozai, had formally removed himself from the line of succession and retired from public life, and all the Fire Nation gossip moved to that.

And two years later, Zuko was photographed at his little sister’s sixteenth birthday party with a red scar across his face and the gossip wheel had started to turn anew.

There are all these pieces of Zuko that have never quite added up in any way that makes sense. Sokka thinks, sitting on the floor with his knees bunched to his chest in the elevator of a _Children’s Shelter_ , that some of the puzzle pieces start to slot a bit too uncomfortably into place. Sokka’s brain is always spitballing through ideas and mysteries at a million miles a minute. It takes everything in him to not blurt out any conclusions he’s jumped to.

This is the most he’s ever really _seen_ of Zuko, and he doesn’t want to ruin that.

And the thing is, he can’t ask about parents. His own mother died when he was barely 8 years old. He knows he looks like her, more or less. More so than he looks like his dad, at least. He’s got her pointed chin and soft, round nose. He knows that when his dad watches the way he’s puzzling over technical drawings, he’s seeing her. That the way Bato’s face twists whenever he’s explaining policy and campaign ideas, that he is thinking the same. Sokka can’t bring himself to even look at photographs of her because he knows that if he does, he’ll be lost to _wondering._ He knows what it’s like to lose a parent and have a family fall apart just a bit. He knows about _grief_.

It’s not fun. It’s the reason Katara throws herself into everything with too much passion. Running herself half-ragged that, even these days, he’ll sometimes have to carry her out of the guest room that they turned into an office and tuck her into bed. It’s what has him navigating doubts that he’ll never quite meet the impossible standards he’s set, for fear of disappointing his nation and the world. He knows about being driven so hard into distraction by focusing on a task that you might just start to lose yourself.

He’s not considered Zuko might know about this too.

“Zuko, I-,”

“It’s my favourite mover.”

“What?”

“Love Amongst the Dragons,” he says softly, “The original version. Not the butchered Ember Island mover, but the classic one.”

Sokka laughs, a barking, loud sound in the quiet of the elevator. He is thrown by the sudden change of subject, but he grins.

“Oh, I get it. You’re not an actual snob, you’re just a _mover_ snob.”

“I am _not,_ ” Zuko gives an emphatic, indignant huff. Sokka’s resisting the urge to kick his leg gently to get the scowl off his face.

“Uh, yeah,” he nods, “you are. The Ember Island version is _iconic._ ”

“It’s facetious!”

“You’re facetio-,”

Before Sokka can finish the childish retort, the lift stammers to life, the lights flickering back on, and the door slides open at last, and both boys let out a sigh of relief. Blinking against the sudden change of light, Sokka’s heartbeat calms back down now that he’s no longer literally trapped in an elevator with his archnemesis as he recognises the familiar silhouette of Suki, and Ty Lee just over her shoulder. Shaking her head with an expression melting from distress to exasperation.

“Thank the _spirits_ , you’ve not killed each other,” she laughs, offering Sokka her arm to pull him up. He shakes his head.

“Ye of little faith.”

Zuko stands up behind him, and as Sokka turns to look over his shoulder, he notices the slightest tinge of pink on his unblemished cheek. Suki leads the way out of the cupboard and smirks, leaning in softly.

“You two looked _friendly.”_

Sokka’s cheeks flush a shade darker too.

Suki relents to Sokka’s request to grab fast food on his way back to the palace, on the grounds that getting stuck in a broken down lift was a very harrowing experience for the both of them. Even Ty Lee is in support as they head through the drive-thru and the boys give them their orders. Sokka laughs as the poor window employee cranes her neck as she realises _exactly who’s fucking satomobile this is_ and Zuko looks pointedly out the window, shrinking slightly in his seat as if this will make him unseen.

Their lunch in the back of satomobile is quiet, and not nearly as tempestuous as any other interaction they’ve had thus far. It matches the quiet feeling of their accidental encounter the night before, and no insults are thrown.

As soon as he’s finished his noodles, he reaches out to grab Zuko’s phone from the space on the seat in between them. Pulling up a contact page, and tapping in his number, and pouting ridiculously as he takes a quick, blurry selfie. The photograph startles a laugh out of Zuko before he sticks out his hand to silently ask for his phone back. He glances down at what Sokka’s done and raises his eyebrow in surprise.

“My number,” Sokka confirms with a solemn nod, though he’s smiling too, “Might as well work out how we’re gonna do this without bothering Suki and Ty Lee every day.”

“Too right!” the girls say in unison from the front seat, before laughing.

“Yes,” Zuko nods, “Thank you, Sokka.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he waves him off. “Just don’t use it for booty calls.”

And once again the tip of Zuko’s good ear turns pink. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen, I know that technically Love Amongst the Dragons has a plot according to the comics and a wiki. But frankly I do not care for/have never read most of the comics so I reject them in this, my very frivolous RWARB AU. Love Amongst the Dragons is now a forbidden romance story akin to a Princess Bride type thing between the Blue Spirit and his lover. Also I imagine the Ember Island version Zuko hates is something akin to the 90s version of Romeo and Juliet. 
> 
> Also also don’t think too hard abt Harmonic convergence. I just needed a canon verse big festival/global event thing and it works I hope?? Aang is not the avatar/the avatar is no longer around so just like, roll with it?


	3. Textual Content

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out for this chapter goes to Em, who helped me with worldbuilding and is an all round DELIGHT!

The news cycle turns, as it ever does, away from pointing a glaring spotlight at Sokka fairly quickly after his weekend in Caldera. Suki won’t stop sending him gifs of him and Zuko on television where, in spite of almost coming across as cool, he still looks like a bit of a dork next to Zuko. Osha has at least stopped glaring at him every time they pass each other in the halls now that there’s not any ongoing speculation about poor Fire Nation-Water Tribe relations following his dad into a second term. 

Their plan had just about paid off, and now that he’s not playing catch-up on his mistakes, Sokka’s life has just about got back to normal by the time the mid-semester break at HCU comes around. 

The streets of Republic City are almost as familiar to Sokka as the home streets of the Water Tribe at this point. He’s spent four summers in a row interning here for various programs and companies, every internship as all-consuming as the last. It’s also where Bato is, most of the time, so when he's here, he pops in often enough to do some good old-fashioned pestering of the man who’s been as good as his second father for most of his life.

That's what Sokka's usually up to, when he’s ducking through the long, airy corridors of the Republic City Council building at this time. He’s been here so many times he can remember the shortcuts from the front hall to the office on the fourth floor that is Bato’s now but Sokka hopes will one day be his. Overlooking the bay and reminding both of them of home. 

He’s been round most of the building in his summer internships though, working for other candidates on council elections too. The intricate web of overlapping politics between Republic City and the four nations is complicated at the best of times, but for Sokka it’s just another mystery to unravel. He’s mostly worked for Water Tribe candidates and councillors, but his second summer was spent as a staffer for a United Republic candidate. He has always figured a diverse portfolio can’t exactly hurt if he wants to get elected here by the time he’s 30. 

Sokka’s favourite internship, though, was the one he did for Piandao last summer. Besides being the best summer of his life – and spirits wasn’t that an awfully nerdy thing to say – it was also the most educational. Piandao had been able to tune the raw talent everyone noted into something resembling actual skill. 

His memories of last summer are all incredibly fond, if somewhat tainted by the ghost of stressful all-nighters, pleading with the owner of the water-tribe restaurant three streets over to stay open just five minutes longer so he could actually grab dinner, and the fact that his fingers still have the callouses he got from gripping his pen so tight as he scribbled note after note after note.

Of the fire nation councillors, Piandao was a breath of fresh air. He has always favoured integration between the nations. It’s part of what has him so well loved in Republic City, even if he’d never be able to secure the votes from his home nation to get the domestic nomination. The combination of his liberal policies and being a non-bender too much to work against. Not to mention the fact he’d been married to a man for the better part of ten years. The non-bending Fire Nation voters of Republic city have never seemed to mind him, though.

The silver fox of the RC council looks like he could be just as happy making movers on Ember Island as he is in the third-floor office where Sokka finds him. 

“Sokka,” 

“Thoughts on this one?” He slides a drawing across the desk, a caricature of Piandao’s secretary, that makes the councillor’s face immediately split into a wide grin. 

“Still needs work, son.” 

“Noted,” Sokka says, dropping casually into the seat across from Piandao, swinging his feet onto the desk with an air of casual familiarity. 

“To what do I owe the visit, Sokka?”

“I can’t just casually visit my favourite City Councillor?”

“Bato is your favourite City Councillor.”

“Don’t sell yourself short!” Sokka laughs, “Anyway, Bato isn’t here right now, he’s back in Harbour City, so you _are_ my favourite in-city City Councillor!”

“I’m honored,” Piandao deadpans, but he’s smiling really. “Why are you really here?”

“You mean I seriously can’t just visit an old buddy?”

“Not when you’ve got ulterior motives.” 

“I’m _hurt.”_

“You’ll live.” 

“Fair enough.”

This kind of deadpan, determined banter has always punctuated their relationship. So many teachers struggle to put up with Sokka, and his insistence on thinking everywhere but inside the box. Piandao never seemed to mind it. 

“Hey, good news,” he says, smirking at Sokka, “I hear we’re not about to be at war with each other?” 

“Har, har,” Sokka rolls his eyes, “Actually, speaking of the Fire Nation, I was wondering if you had any information on Council Seat Nominations?”

Subtlety has never been Sokka’s strongest trait, and Piandao knows it. He laughs sharply, leaning back in his own chair. Sokka is caught once again by the annoyingly good bone structure everyone in the Fire Nation seems to possess. 

Piandao sighs, “It’s a hard call,” he shakes his head. “The domestic seat coming up for election is almost definitely going to Zhao. Which is not really helpful.” 

_Not really helpful_ is something of an understatement. Zhao is a hard-line nationalist. With nearly twenty years of involvement in domestic Fire Nation politics. Sokka’s done his research and he knows there’s plenty of voting history to drive that point home. They can’t interfere in a foreign election of course. There’s nothing they can _do_ to stop Zhao getting in, but it would be a concerningly pro-nationalist move from the Fire Nation.

It’s not unusual for Sokka to care this much about the Republic City elections, considering his personal ambitions, but this year, some of the elections are more important than ever. Running almost concurrently with the Water Tribe elections, he knows that Water Tribe residents of Republic City will be holding both elections in their head. He’s worried, just like his dad is, that the Fire Nation choosing a man like Zhao to represent them in Republic City will make Water Tribe voters choose a “stronger” man like Pakku in their own election. 

As if strength comes from bluster and forceful words.

“Great,” Sokka sighs, “Any idea who’s up for the seat against him?”

“A woman called Ayame. Much less awful, but an unlikely choice unless Zhao does something unspeakably dishonorable between now and the election.” 

“Well, thank you as ever for your wisdom, old man.” 

Piandao gives one of his dry chuckles. “Enough politics,” he says, “What about _you,_ Sokka? You know we had that photo of you from the wedding pinned to the office fridge for a week.”

“I’m _hurt_ by that action,” Sokka fakes a wounded betrayal, “Was it Fat who put it up? I always knew he hated me.”

“What’s the deal there?”

“With Fat? Did you miss our ongoing-,”

“With Prince Zuko.”

“There’s no deal,” Sokka insists. Piandao does not look like he believes him. “We just… had a misunderstanding. And then we fixed it.”

“Yes, on national television, I saw,” Piandao nods sagely, “Prince Zuko is quite the charmer, as I recall?”

Sokka scoffs, because only someone who hasn’t had to stay in a room with him longer than five minutes would call the perpetually awkward Zuko a _charmer._ “Sure, to look at maybe. If you’re into the whole prince thing.”

“And you’re not into the whole prince thing.”

“Emphatically not.”

“And the Zuko pin cushion you made last summer to stab when you got angry?”

“A healthy form of stress relief.”

“Of course.” he nods, “And the copy of _Varricks_ that you kept on your desk…?”

Sokka huffs indignantly at the skepticism in Piandao’s tone. “I didn’t _keep_ it. I _had_ a copy which Katara gave me, and he was just on the cover.”

“You stared at it for an hour.”

“I did not!” Sokka pouts, but Piandao’s smirk says he doesn’t believe a word of his protests. Rolling his eyes, he tries to change the subject back to the reason he’s here. _Politics._ “I didn’t come here to talk about Zuko, I came to talk about the Council elections.” 

“You wound me, Sokka.” 

“You’ll get over it.”

“Sokka have you considered that you need a holiday?”

“I’m on holiday, I don’t live here! Not to mention I just got back from Caldera a fortnight ago. And Ba Sing Se! Lots of holidays.”

“Every single one of those trips was a work trip,” Piandao sighs, and there’s a fond exasperation in his tone that Sokka remembers vividly, “You’re twenty-one, shouldn’t you be spending a holiday in Republic City going to downtown bars and playing drinking games with your friends?”

“I do those things,” he says, though he can’t remember the last time he went to a bar, “I just… also do this.”

“You need to take some time to look after yourself as well, son. You need a support system.”

“Don’t call me son.”

Piandao holds his hands up in surrender, “Alright,” he concedes, “Alright, just… make sure you’re looking after yourself, Sokka. You don’t want to burn out before you’ve even begun.” 

Sokka bites back a protest, that he’s fine. He has the perfect amount of stuff on his plate and never an ounce more. 

“Now get out of my office,” Piandao shoos him good-naturedly, swatting Sokka’s foot from where it’s still resting on the far corner of his desk. 

Sokka is used to working in chaotic spaces. He thrives on order, and schedules that are correct down to the last pin-point detail, but this is always at odds with the chaos that surrounds him. The web of Republic City councillors and candidates that has taken over his wall is no exception to that chaos. Red, blue, orange and green strings are overlapping each other between post-it notes and policy ideas.

Zhao and Pakku sit at the centre of Sokka’s convoluted world politics web. Crude drawings of them both, along with a much nicer one of his dad. He sighs as he pins a note of some numbers that he got Yue to run next to Pakku. Zhao’s seemingly inevitable election is the kind of move that would drive Water Tribe voters towards Pakku, and away from his dad. It’s all a terribly big puzzle and one Sokka doesn’t know how he’s going to solve just yet. 

On top of a stack of Zhao’s policies and voting records from the past twenty years, Sokka’s phone buzzes. A text from Katara. **Where r u??**

Sokka glances back at his laptop, running one of Pakku’s recent interviews with the captions on because he doesn’t have the focus to listen to it and do all the rest at the same time. His speaker is softly playing disco - again - from the corner of his room instead. He _knows_ he didn’t have plans tonight with Katara. Ignoring her text, he goes back to the numbers he got Yue to send him. 

Ten minutes later, his phone buzzes again, this time with a photo attached. **I’ve got roast arctic-hen.** And sure enough Katara’s holding up a bag with the logo of their favourite place from across town on the side of it and that’s more than enough to make Sokka set aside the policy notes for one night. 

He practically sprints through the residence, sliding into the living room where he knows she’ll be with a grin on his face. Katara laughs aloud when she sees him, rolling her eyes as she slides him a plate of the fast food. 

“Unbelievable,” she shakes her head, “No response when I ask where you are, but one photo of arctic hen and you literally come running.”

Sokka pouts at her. “You knew it would work!” He sits down on the floor opposite her, the rest of her order laid out on the little table. Far too much for the both of them, even accounting for him. He quirks an eyebrow at it, and then up at her. A silent question. 

Family dinners are a rare enough event in the palace, with all three of them so busy that it’s almost a wonder they happen at all. Take-out with Katara is one thing, because she knows food is the best way to distract him from his work. 

“Dad joining us?” he asks, cautiously hopeful. 

“And Bato,” she nods, taking a long sip of her soda. As if summoned by Sokka’s delight at the news, their dad paces through the door a moment later. Sliding things rapidly around on a tablet before locking it and dropping it on the sofa behind Katara as he leans in to kiss her on the forehead. 

She smiles into it, before handing him his own plate of hen as he sits down at the head of the little table. It’s a coffee table, technically, but this is the room where they always come in to have a laid out, take-away dinner like this. There’s a dining room down the hall, but for some reason it has always felt too fancy for their casual little dinners. Even after five years in residence here, Sokka can only think of a handful of times when just the three of them, or even the three of them plus Bato have used it. 

“All right,” he settles down, smiling broadly at them. The face of the Chief, the one that he uses to tell Sokka off, or to give speeches or host dinners, is gone. This is just Dad. “Hi kids.” 

“Where’s Bato?” Katara asks, and Hakoda sighs, placing a mock-wounded hand over his heart. 

Bato has been a part of their family since before their mother died. The three of them had been a single entity that Sokka had considered his ‘parents’ up until he was 8. The divide that happened after, whatever drove Bato to his position in Republic City aside from politics, is never spoken of. And Bato still comes round for dinner when he’s in town, and laughs with Hakoda, and they all have their own level of normal. Whatever normal can be when you’re in charge of a nation. 

“Am I not good enough for my own children?” Hakoda asks, and Katara just laughs at him, her question still hanging. “He’s running late, he shouldn’t be too long. He told me to make Sokka promise not to eat his portion.” 

Katara laughs louder at that as Sokka gapes, his own turn to be offended. The laughter subsides a little as they all dig into their food, Hakoda pretending to guard Bato’s portion from Sokka’s covetous eyes. 

“Alright,” he says, after a beat, “One good thing, one bad thing, go.”

It’s their lifelong system for catching up on each other when things are frustratingly busy. Sokka’s always tried his hardest not to mind that their Dad will always be the way he is, devoted to his duty to the tribes. Hakoda cares about them too, more than anything; he’s never emotionally absent. When Sokka and Yue dated, he got a PowerPoint presentation from his father on it. 

“Mmm,” Katara sets down her hen leg, “Good thing, I convinced the sustainability team to push the university to a vote on reducing fuel usage and going neutral in the next ten years!” 

“Hey, nice one!” 

“Thank you, Sokka,” she nods, “Bad thing is I guess… we’re still not fuel neutral when it’s so _easy.”_

“I raised two workaholics,” Hakoda chuckles, before turning expectantly to Sokka.

“Uh good thing…” he thinks hard over the past day, racking his brains for something that’s not bitter salty information about Zhao and Pakku because he refuses to let that ruin dinner. He thinks about school instead, same as Katara, “Oh! I got a 78 in my Innovation project. And the jerkass-,”

“Sokka.”

“-the _jerk_ who didn’t help with the final conclusion got a 53, so that’s karma for him.” Sokka takes a swig of his own soda. Ice cold and straight from the glass bottle. “Bad thing- I think I’m still recovering from my jet lag from being in Republic City last week and I dozed off in my Knowledge and Governance seminar today.” 

Hakoda frowns but doesn’t tell Sokka off for this. It’s not the kind of thing he gets in trouble for - international incidents, absolutely, he’s forced to fix that on national television, but falling asleep in his classes is a much more forgivable transgression. 

“What about you, dad?”

“Well, let’s see,” he hums thoughtfully, “My Earth Kingdom ambassador said something idiotic, so now I have to phone Ba Sing Se to personally apologise. But the good thing is it’s about three in the morning there, so I can put it off and have dinner with you two instead.” 

Sokka grins broadly, the way he always does when he’s in awe of his dad. He talks about the intricacies of being chief, of international goings on and pains in the ass - sometimes meaning him - so casually. Sokka can’t help but be in awe, even five years in. The three of them lapse into idle conversation, still waiting for Bato who is perpetually late, that that itself has become an inside joke over the years. Nights like this may be rare, but they mean the world to Katara.

They mean the world to Sokka too. 

Sokka’s almost finished with his own plate, and seriously thinking very hard about whether or not he could pinch something off of Bato’s when the conversation inevitably turns back to the Chief re-election campaign. Sokka’s complaining about Zhao and Pakku and the complicated interconnections of global politics when his dad sets down his own food. 

“You’ve really started putting that head of yours to good use, you know.”

“Thanks?” Sokka meets his dad’s appraising look with some confusion. 

“I’ve been thinking,” Hakoda says, “this time around, if you wanted, you could be more than just a figure. You’re smart and talented, Sokka. Less of the superficial stuff, you could do something real for us. For the campaign.”

Sokka sets down his hen too. _No gaps in the resume._ Says a voice in his head. The voice that’s always running approximately five yards ahead of where he actually is in life. He has a lot of choice words about nepotism, but Sokka knows that he can do this. He _wants_ to do this. He can’t believe his dad trusts him enough to let him do this.

“What about-,” Katara starts to say something, but Sokka cuts her off in his own eagerness. 

Their dad is pulling apart the arctic-hen again as he eyes Sokka and all his eagerness. “Well, considering your degree, and your determination to research everything under the sun, you could run point on policy. Lots of research, lots of writing, lots of _thinking_. All the stuff I know you love.” 

“Absolutely!” Sokka agrees, without thinking, “Of course, I’m a thousand percent in. Show me the focus groups!”

“Dad, what about-”

“And I’m thinking of asking Yue to take a position in analytics,” Hakoda says, and Sokka somehow grins wider because of _course_ it’s _perfect._ It’s what they’re unofficially doing in their spare time anyway. They might as well get paid for it. “Arnook is talking to her tomorrow. Of course, she can start straight away, but I want you to graduate first.” 

Graduation seems a million miles off and Sokka groans, rolling his eyes. His protest is cut off before it can begin, however, when Katara slams her hand down on the table. 

“Dad!” she snaps, “What about me?” 

Their dad looks like he has been dreading this question. His silence is answer enough for her. Sokka may have an official job offer on this campaign, but that offer has not also been extended to Katara. 

“Is it because I’m a girl?”

“Katara, you know that’s not the case,” the lightness, the shared delight in Sokka’s eagerness seems to fade slightly as he registers Katara’s disappointment. “It’s because you’re only nineteen. Sokka is twenty-one, Yue is twenty-two. You are in your first year at university, you can’t commit to a full-time job on this campaign. You do so much already.”

Despite what their dad is saying, Katara is hearing something very different. From the look on her face, Sokka can tell she’s hearing exactly what he would, if their roles were reversed. She is seething in the unfairness of it all, because in her eyes she is more than capable to do this along with all the other things. 

Sokka can’t help but feel a bit of relief, when a knock on the door cuts the thick tension that has settled around the table. 

“Bato!” their father greets, standing up to pull the other man into a tight hug. 

“This isn’t fair,” Katara huffs to him under her breath as their dad starts gently ribbing Bato about being this late to dinner. “I hate this.”

“I’m sorry, Katara,” Sokka says apologetically, moving round to her side of the table and throwing an arm over her shoulders and pulling her into a soft hug. He even thinks about sliding her the last of his arctic-hen wings, but that’s just a step too far. “We’re still the Water Tribe Trio. You’ll still be able to keep an eye on me. I promise to let you help me with policy if I get stuck.” 

Katara doesn’t stop scowling. 

**_Hello, Zuko here._ **

The first text comes almost a month after all the wedding stuff has finally died down. Sokka’s Public Administration lecture is driving him slowly to sleep not because he doesn’t care but because his lecturer is droning on like a buzzard-wasp. 

It vibrates in his hand again as he pulls it from the desk. Another message, this time with an attached image. Sokka recognises the gaudy, neon title screen of the Ember Island Studios remake of _Love Amongst the Dragons. **Just thought you should know this is still awful.**_

Sokka’s not really sure how to respond, but for some reason, it makes him smile. He saves Zuko’s number under the contact ‘Prince Jerkbender’ and puts it out of his mind as he tries to refocus on his work. 

Two days later, when he sees the tabloids when he stops at the grocery store for late night essay snacks, he can’t help but take a photo of the front cover of _Varricks._ Zuko, on what he can only assume is some fancy Ember Island resort, looking more miserable than Sokka thinks he’s ever seen. 

**You really look like you’re having fun here,** he texts. **I really think the paps got your best angle.**

He’s in a briefing with Osha when the response comes, a screenshot of a _Harbour Mirror_ article. A photo of Sokka looking very worried - one that he recognises from rushing between classes - but the headline the Mirror’s gone with is _First Son's latest sex scandal!_ The attached message says **_What do they mean by latest?_** which makes Sokka bark with laughter and consequently subjects him to one of Osha’s fearsome lectures. 

It becomes evident that, aside from when he’s being funny out of sheer awkwardness, Zuko can be funny on purpose too. 

He’s funny frequently in fact, just as often as he is infuriating. They exchange barbs rather than conversation. A mix of screenshots and photographs and quotes from each other’s interviews. It’s not really friendship. Not the friendship they’ve told the world they share, at least. Their shared life experience only gives them more fuel to take cheap shots at the other, rather than to bind them together. 

They still don’t _get on._ Not really, but Sokka finds himself enjoying the quick rhythm of arguments they fall into. The animosity that used to be behind it seems to have ebbed away slightly. Sokka’s not trying to make Zuko like him, because at the end of the day he doesn’t care if Zuko hates him or not, so he doesn’t bother to hide his strangeness behind the usual ten layers of attempted charm. He’s as weird as he wants to be and Zuko is awkward and a little stilted in return, but there’s a sharp sarcastic wit behind it too. 

Through a combination of the text messages and social media, Sokka learns more and more about Zuko’s life. It’s meticulously organised by Mai, who was as intimidating as she had been during his brief stay in Caldera, but Zuko treats her sharp edges with an air of familiar fondness. Overwhelmingly casual when he sends Sokka a text with a photo attached, of Mai in what looks to be a nail Salon, and Zuko’s free hand in shot, clearly getting his own nails done too.

It’s quickly becoming apparent that Suki and Osha’s fact sheet was just as lacking in facts-about-the-real-Zuko as Sokka had expected it to be.

He learns that Zuko can’t cook, though not for lack of trying. He can rattle off a dozen facts about tea that he swears down he picked up despite his best efforts while forced to sit through tea sessions with his Uncle. Sokka learns more about how to properly brew tea than he’s ever cared to know - he’s a coffee drinker himself, of course - but when Zuko sends a photo of one of his dubious looking attempts at food it’s a sure fire way to work Sokka into a rant. 

The easiest thing to bond over, as Sokka maybe could have guessed by reflecting on the one night he spent in the palace, is their little sisters. They’re frequently comparing notes on the trials of their impressive little sisters more often than either of them would probably care to admit. 

**did Azula force you into dresses as a child too?**

**No. She did push me in a pond once though. She’s also taken to stealing druk because she thinks I won’t notice.**

He sees glimpses of Toph and Aang too, but neither of them lives in the Fire Nation. Both are such curious people that Sokka can’t help but wonder _how_ someone like Zuko knows them. He may have started revealing his hidden depths to Sokka, but he knows Zuko has something of a royal stick up his ass. Enough that he shouldn’t sit well with someone like Aang, who’s always doing something insane and eccentric, usually involving an impossible animal interaction. Even Toph, whose background is fancy enough that she _might_ brush elbows with the Crown Prince of the Fire Nation, barely makes sense considering she’s a prolific, often foul mouthed, pro-earthbender.

Sokka realises, a little belatedly, that he has given Zuko a similar view into his own life. Usually Sokka is so protective of both Katara and Yue, though both would argue they could protect themselves. But when Sokka sees an online exchange between Katara and Zuko about which the better _Love Among the Dragons_ movie _actually_ is, he notices.

“What are you _doing?”_ Yue asks, appearing silently as she always does at his shoulder, “And don’t say emails, because you look far too happy for it to be emails.” 

“Phone stuff.”

“ _Phone stuff,”_ she repeats drily, rolling her eyes. The text from Zuko buzzes insistently in his hand, **_In world's worst meeting with Lu Ten and Grandfather. Don’t let the papers print more lies about me after I’ve stabbed myself in my one good eye with my hair pin._ **

He’s distracted when Yue reaches over him to grab the biscuit off his plate and he scowls but is too late to stop her. 

“What?” she says, face the picture of innocence, “You were busy! Now tell me what you’re doing.”

“It’s nothing!” 

“Alright, but you’re going to have to think of a better line than Phone Stuff if Osha asks.” 

The threat of Osha makes him slide his phone away, because he doesn’t want another lecture from them on _jeopardising international relations._ But that night, when he’s alone at the desk in his room, he replies. 

**What’s the eyeball count, jerkbender?**

**_Same as it was this morning, fortunately. But I’m now deaf to the words “return on investment” if Lu Ten asks._ **

Sokka rolls his eyes, **the harrowing struggle of managing the Nation’s blood money.**

Zuko’s response comes only a minute later.

**_You joke, but that’s what the meeting was about. Mom left Azula and I more than enough, and I’d rather cover my expenses with that than the spoils of, you know, genocide and imperialism. I’m trying to refuse my share and my Grandfather is insisting it’s not an option. Lu Ten and my Uncle are trying to mediate. It got heated._ **

Sokka chokes on his late night - decaf because he’s not an _idiot_ like some people - coffee. A firebender saying it got heated probably has a more literal meaning than Sokka would like to comprehend right now. He reads the message again, before setting the coffee cup down. 

**count me impressed.**

He sends the message before he’s able to think about it too long. Staring at it, he’s afraid it was a stupid thing to say. No, his doubts are borne of the coffee, and the essay he’s not writing. Not what Prince Zuko thinks about him.

He picks up the phone again. The little typing bubble hovers on Zuko’s side of the screen. Was it the wrong thing to say? It doesn’t _matter._ Sokka puts the phone down. Looks away. Looks _back._

**thanks, sokka.**

He would really appreciate it, if just once, Prince Zuko made any sense.

**Prince Jerkbender** 🔥💩

> [17:12] **Prince Jerkbender** 🔥💩
> 
> thoughts on this?
> 
> [ **sushi.jpg** ](https://tinyurl.com/y2vkncvh)
> 
> [17:34] Sokka
> 
> I hate you
> 
> [17:37] **Prince Jerkbender** 🔥💩
> 
> That doesn’t seem good for foreign relations.
> 
> [17:43] Sokka
> 
> You’re not good for foreign relations. 
> 
> Sushi is good. And you’re ruining it. Who let you do that to Sushi? Where’s your humanity???
> 
> [17:52] **Prince Jerkbender** 🔥💩
> 
> Toph said it was a good idea.
> 
> [17:54] Sokka
> 
> You are an arctic thistle in the ass of my life i s2s
> 
> -see older messages-
> 
> [12:41] **Prince Jerkbender** 🔥💩
> 
> Did you send me a sushi kit?????
> 
> [13:19] Sokka
> 
> Yes. Now you have no good reason to commit sushi sins. Tell toph the second mat is for her.
> 
> [13:24] **Prince Jerkbender** 🔥💩
> 
> You realise I have a sushi mat already.
> 
> [14:52] Sokka
> 
> then learn how to use it xoxo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End of chap shout out to Shen aka Parmigiano for Sokka/Katara/Hakoda's surname, and also for the idea that Zuko+Toph are awful at food in a bone app the teeth kind of way!


	4. Frights, Fights, Friends, and Functions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sokka and Zuko take their "fake" friendship to the next level, and New Year's comes to Agna Qel'a.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you to egeria for proofreading this one, you absolute gem <3
> 
> some cw for this chapter: mentions of parental death/grief, and also some drinking at the end

“This is awful, I hate this.”

“Sokka, _you_ suggested this!”

“Well why did you pick now to start listening to me?!”

Just watch the movie, Sokka.” 

Sokka can’t sleep. He’s been staring at the ceiling for the past hour, unable to keep from checking his phone, and every time the corridor creaks, or the shutters to his balcony rattle, his heart beats a little faster again. 

It’s not the movie. It’s _not._

He’s twenty-one years old, he’s not scared by movies anymore. And more importantly he doesn’t believe in _ghosts._ It’s just the same insomnia as always keeping him up. It’s not that when he almost drifts off the dressing gown hanging on the hook by the door looks hauntingly similar to the silhouette of a person in the dim light. 

He blames Zuko for suggesting it. Who knew that the Prince of the Fire Nation had impeccable taste in horror movies, and had not just suggested something full of jumpscares and cheap thrills. Zuko was getting an earful for it, of course. Etiquette be damned, Sokka didn’t care how late it was, he was going to keep texting Zuko his annoyance at being kept up by the stupid movie - not that it _was_ the movie - and if the other man didn’t like it, he’d just have to turn his phone off. 

Except he was still responding. Unhelpful things though, because what else would Zuko respond with? Things like **it’s not my fault you live in what’s probably a haunted building.**

“What do you _mean_ it’s probably haunted?” Sokka hisses into the phone, sitting straight upright in bed and flicking the night on his bedside table on. Not that it does much to help the ambience. Dim light throwing long shadows throughout his room. 

“Sokka?” Zuko sounds befuddled, like he wasn’t as awake as his texts had suggested. “Why are you calling me?”

“Because you suggested we watch that stupid _Puppetmaster_ movie and now you have the _audacity_ to tell me you think my house is haunted?!” 

“You said you didn’t believe in ghosts!” 

“I hate you,” Sokka whines, “Now explain what you mean by haunted.”

“Well, I don’t know much about the Harbour City Palace history,” Zuko says, pausing so long and it’s so quiet that Sokka wonders if he can hear his heartbeat. Thudding loudly and rapidly in his chest. “But my uncle once told me a story of how someone in the palace put the world out of balance, and then dark spirits rose…”

And then Zuko proceeds to tell him a story that’s somehow worse than the dumb movie he just watched. Sokka’s grip on his phone becomes tight, knuckles cracking round the edges. Zuko’s low, monotonous voice doesn’t help either. Somehow it makes the story all the more chilling. That explains the shiver that rolls down his spine. And when he’s done ruining Sokka’s life just that little bit more, he says, “Sure you don’t believe in ghosts?”

“I don’t,” Sokka says adamantly, again. But even as he says it he knows his voice has shook, and he’s casting a wary glance around the room.

“Of course not.” 

“I _don’t!”_

“Then I guess you’ll have no problem with me hanging up and going to-,”

“No, wait!” The words are out of his mouth before Sokka can stop them, and on the other end of the phone line, Zuko breaks into laughter. Proper laughter. Low chuckles bubbling through the phone line. 

“Screw you _,_ you're the worst," Sokka murmurs and Zuko’s only response is to continue chuckling. Now he knows Sokka doesn’t really mean that, not in the same way that he used to. “That movie was just _really_ creepy, and I needed you to know that you’re an asshole for making me watch it.”

“I didn’t make you-”

“You should know better than to suggest scary movies to me.” 

Sokka doesn’t think much of the statement. Nothing about the fact that Zuko isn’t _really_ his best friend, so has no idea that any horror movie, anything at all, that’s presented like a challenge is something Sokka immediately has to take on. All he can think about is Zuko’s laughter, tinny over the phone but noticeable all the same. 

The shutter to his balcony rattles again, the storm that’s marking the shift between autumn and winter raging outside still, and Sokka shivers. Not cold. Just spooked. And forgets what he was about to say next.

“Where’s Katara, didn’t you say her and Yue watched the movie with you?”

“She _abandoned_ me,” Sokka huffs, lying back down and determinedly _not_ facing the balcony doors. Out of sight, out of mind, right? “They kicked me out so they could have a _sleepover_. And I’m not texting her to let her know the stupid movie is keeping me up.” 

“But you’re calling me?” Zuko asks, and Sokka can practically hear the eyebrow quirk in his voice. 

“Well you were the one texting me about the ghosts in the palace!”

“It’s not my fault you don’t know about the ghosts in your own home,” he says calmly, but Sokka can hear the laughter buried under his voice. 

“Why are you even up anyway?” Sokka asks, desperate to change the topic if only to stop his skin from crawling, as if someone is watching him. If it’s anything like when he stayed in Caldera, it could just be Zuko’s late night coffee habits, and what Sokka suspects is probably insomnia based on the time of night he gets texts from Zuko.

“Trying to sleep.” Zuko deadpans, and immediately Sokka doesn’t believe him. He rolls onto his back with a grin. 

“That might be the worst lie you’ve told me yet,” he says, “What are you really up to at this time of night? Something fun?”

“I-,” Zuko pauses, “I was watching _Bake Sing Se.”_

 _“_ Wait… The Earth Kingdom one? Where they had to make cake sculptures last week?”

“ _Yes,”_ Zuko sighs, probably at the amusement in Sokka’s tone. “It’s soothing alright? I needed something relaxing after today.”

“Oh?” Sokka raises an eyebrow, leaving the door open for Zuko to elaborate if he wants to. Oddly, he knows he wouldn’t mind, if Zuko did open up to him a little more. As their texts have gone on, he’s started to think he really wouldn’t mind that at all.

“It’s nothing,” Zuko sighs audibly, crackling against his microphone, “Just... family stuff, you know?”

Sokka thinks of his Dad, and Katara, and Bato all the way back in Republic City again and yes, he _does_ know. He makes a sympathetic noise, and after an awkward, too-quiet moment, it becomes obvious that he’s not getting anything more than that just yet. Sokka changes the subject for Zuko’s benefit. 

“Hey, why’d you know that story?”

“What, the one about the spirits?” he asks, “Like I said, my uncle told me. And I’m just... interested, I guess?”

“In the spirits of the Southern Water Tribe Palace?”

“In stories…” he clarifies. For Zuko, it sounds like an important distinction, “and history, I suppose.”

“That’s actually kinda cool,” Sokka hums, and then his mouth splits open into a wide yawn, and the tiredness that the adrenaline he’d been harbouring since the movie had kept away comes creeping back.

“Sokka.”

“What?”

“There aren’t any ghosts in your room.”

“But-,” 

“Sokka. You’ll be _fine.”_

“What if I-,”

“Then you go find Katara and Yue and you get in on their sleepover. Do a face mask. I don’t know.”

Sokka bites down a smile that feels bigger than the sentence has truly earned. “You go to sleep.” 

“I was trying to,” Zuko insists, and Sokka thinks he hears the smile returned in Zuko’s voice. It’s weird, but not bad. Sokka feels for the first time like maybe they are becoming real friends, who call each other about dumb shit in the middle of the night, “but then some Water Tribe peasant phoned me and wouldn’t hang up.” 

“Alright, I get it, you’re trying to get rid of me,” Sokka laughs, not biting back the smile any longer. “Good night, Zuko.”

“Good night, Sokka.” 

The phone line disconnects, and Sokka drops the phone from beside his ear, fingers still coiled around it. It’s not buzzing in his hand, why would it be? But Sokka still feels like some kind of buzz is whirring through him. Something to explain the static energy in the air. 

But he can’t. 

So he rolls over, flicks the light off again, and falls asleep with his phone still clutched in his hand.

The Winter Solstice Festival has never been an easy time of year for Sokka. For any of them, really. Since his mother died, the festival has been difficult. He hates reading that Bato is coming for the official Festival Celebrations as a “guest of the chief” - like that phrase isn’t some bullshit - in the _Harbour Mirror._ Bato and his Dad love each other. Sokka knows that. Sokka has always known that, just the same as he knows they both loved his mom. 

But there’s something strenuous and serious about Bato coming round for dinner when it’s in the _Mirror_ like that. The level of normalcy that they manage when it’s just the four of them put under the palpable strains of leading a nation. 

And the articles always mention Kya. 

Katara hates this time of year just as much as Sokka does, he’s pretty sure. Whatever the reason is, he knows her grief always hit harder. Well, not harder, perhaps, but different. It was more raw. She’d been the one in Republic City with Kya when it happened, after all. Sokka is half watching as her eyes scan over the article in the paper after he set it aside in favour of texting Zuko. The muscle in her jaw seems to tense, and her hands look too tight around the pages. Paper taught between her fingers. 

Perhaps unconsciously, she raises a hand to her necklace, running the pad of her thumb over the carved pendant. 

Sokka can’t put his finger on why, but the tension doesn’t break like it usually does when Bato shows up at last. Back from a month straight working in Republic City. He wraps both him and Katara in a hug as soon as he’s through the door. He doesn’t hug their dad, and it’s _weird -_ a jarring disconnect from last time Bato had got back to the palace - because they just nod solemnly at each other. Then Katara’s leading Bato away, explaining her latest sustainability campaign that she’s been working on at the university. 

Sokka watches their dad’s face fall slightly, brows knitting together like they always do when he’s trying to puzzle something out. Sighing, he walks over to his dad, pulling him into a light hug which Hakoda returns for a brief moment. 

“You alright, dad?”

He ruffles Sokka’s hair when they pull apart, and he’s smiling as he nods, but there’s something guarded in his dad’s eyes as he says nothing. 

The solstice festival kicks into full swing, and while Bato and Hakoda level out a little, the tension Sokka noted on that first day never _really_ fades. Still, things are calm enough as they sit down for a private, family dinner on the eve of the Solstice. The big, public banquet will be tomorrow, but this one is just for them and all things considered, it’s going pretty smoothly. The conversation is pleasant enough that Sokka almost forgets why this time of year fills them all with dread. Everything is surprisingly peaceful.

Until it shifts to the election. Or, more specifically, Sokka and Katara’s roles in it.

“Are you sure it’s what you want, Sokka?”

Bato, who knows Sokka has been eagerly throwing himself at this kind of thing since he was old enough to understand it. Sokka, who has had to be held back by his dad and Bato both on multiple occasions. Sokka, who maybe has a bit much on his plate with the last six months of university to be throwing himself straight into a job on the Chief’s election campaign. 

But it _is_ what he wants. Whether that is wise or not.

“I’m sure, Bato,” Sokka nods, grinning at the man. When he meets Katara’s gaze across the table, she’s got a frown on her face. Bato isn’t frowning, but the concern is evident.

“I just don’t want you to take on more than you can handle-,” 

“Who are you to say what he can handle?” Hakoda cuts in, and the good natured look on Bato’s face drops slightly. “You’re in Republic City.”

With the tightness of his dad’s words, it’s like the veil of normalcy that they were all clutching at all week, to make it seem fine, drops. Perhaps the levelling out was an illusion, to keep Katara and Sokka happy.

“Here we go,” Sokka sighs, setting down his fork.

It’s an old wound that doesn’t get picked often in front of him and Katara, but Sokka remembers the first time he really heard Bato and his dad argue. When he was 14 and Bato decided to pursue the Republic City seat rather than stay in domestic politics. Back in the house he grew up in, across the city where everything was simpler but the walls were thinner. 

He knows how much it hurt his dad when the man he loved moved to the city where Kya had died. 

“Do you think _Kya_ would have approved of throwing him into the fire like this?” Something about the way Bato says it makes Sokka wonder if Bato and his dad haven’t had this argument before as well. The tired, frustrated look that crosses his dad’s face - one that Sokka is almost too familiar with - is enough to tell him that yes. This is indeed an argument they’ve had before. Just never around him and Katara. 

Something to compartmentalise from the _kids._

“I don’t need you to tell me what-,”

“They’re not just props for you to use, Hakoda.”

There’s a sharp intake of breath all around the table, and Sokka throws a cautious glance at Katara. They don’t feel like props, they’re _not_ props. Their dad is always doing what’s best for them, like keeping Katara out of the heavy campaign stuff, even though he’s letting Sokka onto it. But sometimes what’s best for them _is_ also what’s best for his polling numbers. 

“I know that,” Hakoda says, “Sokka earned his place on the campaign. And Katara can help as much as she is happy to from an _extracurricular_ role.” This is the concession he’s made, and it’s a step up from the figurehead positions they both held in the last election, but it’s not the job Katara really wants. “It’s what they want, and it’s what’s best for them.”

“Well, actually-” Katara starts, but Hakoda cuts her off. 

“You’re too young for a job on the campaign, Katara.”

Maybe it’s being told that she’s too young _again_. Or maybe it’s the fighting that their mom would hate. Or maybe it’s the fact that their nice family dinner has been ruined when they dragged their political campaigning to the dinner table.

Either way, it’s clear being shut down again is enough for Katara.

 _“Bullshit!”_ she says, then she’s pulling her arms around in a practiced move and dumping a pile of icy, half-melted slush on the table, because it’s who she is to be dramatic. And Sokka loves her for it, but it’s all over the dinner that he had kind of hoped he’d still be able to enjoy. Katara’s chair clatters to the floor behind her as she stands. “You always do this! Every Solstice since Mom died! And now you’re tearing at Sokka like tiger-sharks, you’re leaving me out, and acting like you both just want to protect us! We’re not _kids_ anymore!”

“Katara-,” 

Whatever explanation or excuses their father and Bato have, Katara makes it quite clear she doesn’t want to hear them. She stalks out of the room and Sokka watches guiltily as Katara disappears out the door, slamming it behind her with a loud bang. The ice pillar by the door cracking, as if she hadn’t driven her displeasure home enough already. 

Sokka sets down his fork, appetite completely ruined by the yelling. His stomach and his brain are both turning over uneasily in the wake of Katara’s outburst. Not to mention the food is ruined a little bit, covered in the layer of icy slush that she had dropped. He lets out a long-suffering sigh, before standing up. He’s not glaring at his dad or Bato, Sokka almost never glares at either of them. 

But as he moves out from his chair and stands back, he does give them a Look, and throws his own napkin down.

“She’s right,” he says, and it’s the kind of thing he can never say in front of her. 

“Sokka, Katara’s too young-,”

“Not about that,” he cuts his dad off. “I’m not saying put her on the campaign, but you can’t treat her like a kid anymore. Or me. And you can’t use Mom’s memory to argue against each other; she’d hate that and you know it.” 

It feels weird, telling them off. It’s an uncomfortable role reversal, and not one that Sokka cares to prolong a second longer than he has to. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says, and then he follows Katara out the door, to their side of the residence. Not running after her, because he has _some_ dignity to maintain around his little sister. Besides, he doesn’t want to risk her freezing his feet to the floor again. It's a tried and tested way of stopping him from bothering her when she wants to be left alone. 

He can hear the music from her bedroom before he even reaches their corridor. Loud and angry through her closed door.

“Katara?” He knocks softly, but the only response is the music getting noticeable and passive aggressively louder on the other side of the door, and what might be the shower turning on in her bathroom. 

Sokka gets the message.

He trudges back along the hall to his own room, leaning against the door as it closes behind him with a solemn click. His brain is too loud. Too uncomfortable with his heartbeat pounding in his ears, and the memory of years of arguments and his parents - because Bato is as much of a parent as Hakoda or Kya - drifting further and further apart in the years since his mom’s death. 

But there’s nothing he can do to make it quiet. No work to throw himself at the way he did when he was fourteen, feeling exactly like Katara. Left out of conversations about policy and campaigns and being so confused as Bato announced he was moving to Republic City. Running for the seat there because he couldn’t handle being in Harbour anymore. 

He reaches for his phone but he realises there’s no one to call. Yue is in Agna Qel’a, celebrating the solstice with her father and their family. He can’t annoy her with this, and the closest thing he has to a friend besides her is Katara’s ex boyfriend, Jet, and Sokka has barely spoken to him since they fell out years ago.

The only other option is…

“Sokka, why on earth are you calling?” Zuko sounds sleep addled, and Sokka realises for the first time how late at night it is. Perhaps this was a stupid idea.

“Sorry,” he bites his lip nervously, “I didn’t think about- I don’t mean to… You’re probably busy, or sleeping, and I’m realising very quickly why my sister and a girl I’ve worked with since I was 16 are my best friends. I’ll just, uhh-,”

“Sokka,” Zuko cuts him off, “It’s fine, I wasn’t sleeping, I was just watching a mover with Azula.”

“Hello, Sokka.” Azula manages to sound scary even over the phone, “Not planning on pushing my brother into anymore banquet table-,”

“ _Enough, ‘_ Zula.” Sokka can hear the eyeroll in Zuko’s voice now he knows what to look for. There’s a soft ruffling sound on the other end of the line. “What’s happening, Sokka? Why are you calling?”

Sokka hesitates as he asks again.

“Sorry,” he blurts, “I know you’re not really… I know we’re not really friends, and that I’m probably interrupting you and your sister, and we don’t really talk but… I don’t _have_ anyone to talk to about this stuff, so I thought, hey, call Zuko!”

There is quiet on the other end of the line, and Sokka chews at his lip. He shakes his hair loose from its wolftail. The long ends falling round his face as he sits heavily at the foot of his bed.

“Hold on, Sokka,” Zuko finally says after a beat, and then there’s the sounds of muffled discussion through a hand over a microphone, and then that low voice is back in his ear. “Alright, what were you saying?”

It’s easy, so infuriatingly easy, to just tell Zuko all of it. How a dinner that should have been a simple gathering of family, no different than any other they’d had, had fallen apart so easily because this time of year _sucks._ To know that Zuko understands because his mother is gone too. Because he has a little sister who’s chomping at the bit to be somebody important too. He has nothing to prove to Zuko, and perhaps that’s why he feels no need at all to hold anything back. The walls that Sokka keeps up most of the time aren’t there. He’s not out to impress Zuko, because he doesn’t care about his opinion.

Sokka’s not really sure when the loud music down the hall stops. He’d talked for over an hour without even really thinking about it, going on a long winded story about dinner while Zuko just _listened._

It’s unnerving.

When finally Sokka is all talked out, there’s a beat of silence on the other end of the line. Zuko processing everything Sokka has laid bare without pausing too much to think about what this meant for their relationship - which only grew more confusing by the day. Then...

“That’s rough, buddy.”

Sokka lets out a bark of laughter. Something about Zuko’s attempt at sympathy is baffling and comforting all at once. 

“Thanks,” he says drily, but for some reason, the awkward acknowledgement is comforting. Because yeah, it has been fucking _rough._

“I mean it!” Zuko insists, doubling down on his attempt to comfort, “But seriously, it sounds like you did your best.”

Sokka’s teasing next words fade unsaid from his tongue. His mind empties of any sharp retort, in fact, because it registers that while he’s told he’s great a lot, he doesn’t often get told he’s enough.

He lets out a hum.

“Thanks for listening… buddy,” Sokka says, smiling because the word _buddy_ is theirs now. They’re the type of friends who have an in-joke, and isn’t that just wild? 

He’s saved from the awkward, prolonged hang-up of their last phone call when there’s a soft knock at his door.

“Sokka?”

“C’mon in, Katara,” he calls out, turning to smile at her as she lets herself in, before he lowers his voice and turns away, murmuring into the phone still pressed to his ear. “Thanks for, uh… Well, you know. Thank you.” 

“Sokka-,”

“I’ve gotta go,” Sokka says, because he can basically feel Katara’s guilty and curious gaze boring into him. “Thank you.” 

He hangs up on Zuko, without giving him a proper chance to say bye, and turns to smile sheepishly at Katara who’s already settled herself on his bed behind her. He shuffles up to sit beside her.

“Hey.” 

“Hey,” he says in a soft response letting his head drop against her shoulder.

“Sorry for dinner,” she says, “I didn’t mean to yell at you as well. I didn’t mean to yell at anyone… really.” 

“It’s alright,” Sokka says, 

“I just- It’s so frustrating, and Dad doesn’t have any right to have a go at Bato for Mom, or for leaving, or any of that. And I’m still mad he’s leaving me out. It’s like… I get that he’s just trying to protect me, but he’s letting you...”

“Dad’s doing his best, you know?” 

“You would think that!” 

“Katara,” Sokka sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose because he hadn’t meant to get into another argument. 

“Sorry, I know he does, it’s just… difficult.” 

Difficult might actually be an understatement. Something of a rarity from Katara, of all people. 

“He loves you. Him and Bato both,” Sokka insists, nudging her leg with his knee. “They just want what’s best for us.”

She hums, and she might believe part of that statement, but she doesn’t necessarily agree with all of it. The quiet lays heavily, almost uncomfortably, between them before she changes the subject a little. Away from herself. “What did Yue have to say about it?”

“Hmm?”

“Weren’t you on the phone to her?” she asks, looking across at him, a teasing smile on her face. “It’s not exactly like you have other friends.”

“Hey!” Sokka protests, as if he hadn’t said the same thing himself literally an hour ago. He passes off the flush that rises to his cheeks as indignation. “I have friends! You just don’t know them!”

“Yue? I know Yue, Sokka.” Katara laughs. Sokka rolls his eyes settling back against his pillows. He hesitates, because answering truthfully might be opening a can of worms, but he also kind of hates lying to Katara. Especially when they’ve been at odds. 

“I was talking to Zuko, actually.”

“Wait,” Katara shoots him a wide eyed look, “ _Prince Zuko?_ Your nemesis of, oh, I don’t know, forever? That’s who you’re trusting with… all this?”

“Yeah,” Sokka can already feel himself on the defensive. Katara’s skepticism is nothing new, as she scans his face for answers. He doesn’t have them. He doesn’t really know _why_ he called Zuko, just that he knew that he wanted to. “I guess all that _shared life experience_ crap we fed the press wasn’t total bullshit. I just… knew he’d get it, okay?”

Katara starts to grin slightly, “Sokka, you _have_ made a friend _._ I’m just so proud of you, finally growing up. Learning how to talk to people like a normal person! It’s cute!”

“You’re the worst,” but Sokka has never really thought this. He wrests himself from her grip, crossing his arms as he tries to sort out his messy hair back into its wolftail. “Zuko’s not my _friend,_ anyway. We just antagonise each other, and I needed his help with this _one_ thing. That’s literally it.” 

“Yeah, that’s what friends are, Sokka.” 

Sokka remembers then why his little sister is actually infuriating, and gives her a soft shove, a half-hearted attempt to roll her off the bed. “Okay, you’ve apologised, you can leave me alone now.”

“Nope. Tell me everything about your new best friend, who is _Prince of the Fire Nation!_ ” Katara sounds entirely too gleeful, considering she’s never really got on with Zuko either. They just never had the animosity he had with Zuko. “Spirits, this is like one of those dumb movers where the girl hires a male escort to pretend to be her wedding date and then falls in love with him for real.” 

“That is not at all what this is like.”

Katara and Sokka head to Agna Qel’a barely three days after the Winter Solstice Dinner. They don’t even have time to consider getting lag from the airship, instead the three of them throw themselves into planning the New Year’s party. Officially, it’s the Water Tribe Young Person’s New Year’s Gala. Sokka doesn’t think he’s ever heard anyone other than Osha refer to it as such.

Every year since their dad became chief, Sokka and Katara have flown up to the Northern Tribe and, along with Yue, they fill the Northern Palace's ceremony room with a mix of friends, vague celebrity acquaintances, former hookups, potential political connections, and otherwise notable twenty-somethings. It’s also a fundraiser, so while the potential PR problems might give Osha nightmares, they put up with it because of all the good press it also generates. 

And it’s a nice break for Sokka and Katara, given the stress of the past few days. Decorating a ballroom on the other side of the world and looking over party plans.

“Why’s Zuko on this list?” Sokka says, looking up from a clipboard that one of the aides had just handed him. Yue is watching as Katara loops a thin trail of water around the beams in the ceiling before she freezes it like icy tinsel. Shaping it with the prowess of a master. “Which one of you did this. 

Yue shakes her head, but her wide eyes are full of mischief. 

“Katara?”

“I just thought, you know, since you’re _friends.”_ Katara stresses the word, with barely concealed delight. “It would be nice for you to have him at the party. You get stupid when you’re isolated. Like that time we were both in Republic City without you and you bought a 500 yuan belt.”

“That belt was an _investment,_ ” Sokka huffs, before realising she has successfully distracted him on the point. He turns to Yue, holding out a futile hope for some kind of back up. “Did you know about this?”

“I agree with Katara, here.”

“I have friends!” he insists, dropping the clipboard to the table with a clatter, “People from school! Jet!”

Katara rolls her eyes. “My ex-boyfriend doesn’t count, and I know you’ve not spoken to him in like, a year.” She goes back to twirling spindly wires of ice around the ceiling beams as if it’s the easiest thing in the world. “Besides, I thought it would be fun for you to have him here. Get more of that _shared life experience.”_

“Shut up,” Sokka whines, hating the flush that rises to his cheeks.

Yue is smirking traitorously across at Sokka, but it’s tinged with curiosity. “This is interesting,” she says.

“It’s not _interesting,”_ he snaps, “Katara, I can’t believe you invited him! I don’t want to look after him all night! I already have to do that at the Tribes Dinner next month.”

“You won’t have to, he’s bringing friends.”

“What?”

“We invited Aang and Toph as well, if you _look_ at the guest list,” She picks up the clipboard from the table as she sidles past him, and shoves it back into his arms. Sure enough, listed as **_and guest(s)_** for Zuko are Aang Yangtso and Toph Bei Fong. 

Sighing, Sokka goes back to checking through it. Seeing that they haven’t missed anyone, and in the back of his mind the phrase _Zuko is coming_ seems to be playing on repeat. Despite himself, he’s actually a little excited about it.

Excited enough that at about 5pm on New Years Eve, he’s sending Zuko a selfie from Yue’s bedroom, where the three of them have gathered to get ready. His reflection in Yue’s floor length mirror; pale blue wrap shirt with the sleeves rolled, hanging loosely over dark navy trousers. It’s a cliche, for the son of the Water Tribe chief to be decked head to toe in blue, but he likes to be On Brand. 

Zuko responds with a thumbs up, and then moments later a selfie but it’s not him that took it. Aang’s holding the phone, from the look of it, and behind Zuko is Toph with her arms around him in what looks less like a hug and more like she’s making him forcibly stay still for the picture, if Zuko’s scowl is anything to go by. 

**_See you soon!!!!_ **The message reads, and Sokka knows enough about Zuko’s texting habits by now to know that he is probably not the one who sent the message. He doesn’t have time to respond though, because Yue’s pulling him back into the bathroom, sitting him down in the stool she and Katara have dragged in there, to neaten up his wolftail and thread a bead into his hair.

Yue’s practically glowing in the reflection as she smiles at him. Her silver dress is a modernised take on the traditional Northern Style. Katara’s laughing too as she takes photos of them both to plaster social media with - the kind of good press that drums up numbers and interest and hopefully votes a few months down the line. 

The guests start to arrive not long after the three of them present themselves downstairs, a mix of nervous newcomers, political first-timers and interns in both the Northern and Southern palaces who help them keep it running. As the night drags on, the guest list only gets more interesting. Minor earth kingdom royals, and a host of young celebrities Sokka can recognise from double page spreads in _Varricks._

It’s all laughter, and greeting and being the perfect host, and sipping at the sparkling wine that was ordered specially while he laughs with Yue. He’s just about to launch into another long winded joke, sure to have her in stitches, when he cuts himself off.

Because Zuko’s there, decked out in a deep burgundy, sharply fitted Fire Nation style formalwear, rather than his usual black. He’s so breath-taking wearing red that Sokka’s not sure he’s _real._ Beside him, Yue’s laughter drags him out of his unabashed and barely concealed gaping. 

“Well don’t you brush up nice,” Sokka says when Zuko and his friends walk up to him. Playing the stunning host, and feigning bravado as if it will help the twisty feeling in his stomach on seeing Zuko again. 

It shouldn’t be weird, but the disconnect between when he last saw Zuko a few months ago - stiff, proper, perfect Prince Zuko - and the Zuko who sent him a photo of the most bizarre takeaway order from the airstrip earlier that morning is a lot to wrap his head around. The former was his nemesis, there’s no point denying it, but the latter is his… friend? Did the phone call a few days ago push them beyond the realm of acquaintances?

“Yeah?” He asks, and Sokka can’t help but think the phone lines did nothing to really convey the honeyed rasp of his voice with any justice. “Toph picked it out- Hey!”

The girl beside him punches him on the arm, “Leave the jokes to me, Sparky.” 

Sokka recognises Toph Bei Fong not just from Zuko’s pictures, but also from her own low level of celebrity. _The Blind Bandit._ He went through a phase a few years ago where he was a little obsessed with pro-bending, he knows she was the youngest person ever to cinch the _Earth Rumble_ title, and that she’s held onto it for a record number of years now. She can’t be more than five-foot-three, and she’s _blind,_ but she still has such presence when she grins at Sokka. 

“I’m Toph,” she says, and Zuko’s other guest sidles up alongside her.

“And I’m Aang!” The Air Nomad is grinning wider than Toph, as he sticks a hand out to Sokka. Blue painted fingernails, the same colour as the tattoos that run down his arms and onto his forehead. Traditional arrows of the air bending masters. 

He pulls his hand back, and his gaze shifts to Katara, and Sokka swears he sees him making literal fucking heart eyes at his sister. 

“You’re beautiful!” he says warmly and so, so earnestly that it seems to stun whatever usual witty retort she would have right out of Katara. He pulls up from pressing a kiss to her hand. “Will you dance with me?”

She blushes and tugs nervously at one of her curls. For a second she seems like she might refuse, but something about Aang’s smile is infectious. He’s just a bundle of joy, and Katara smiles back at him, before nodding. 

He pulls her out into the room and whispers into her ear, and Katara laughs at whatever it was. Sokka turns back to Zuko with a raised eyebrow.

“So he’s… not subtle?”

“Twinkletoes is about as subtle as an elephant-yak,” Toph snorts, “See you later Sparks, I’ve got a drink to find. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” 

From beneath her bangs, she’s smirking, as she salutes the two of them before weaving expertly through the crowd. How she does it is a mystery to Sokka, but it’s pretty cool either way. 

“So,” Zuko says, pulling Sokka’s attention back, “That’s Toph. And Aang… he’s uh, actually been keen to meet your sister for a while. I reckon he was going to learn sky-writing on his glider soon and head down to Harbour city himself.” 

Sokka laughs, and Zuko does too. Another thing the phone lines just didn’t do justice too. It’s another strange discrepancy with the Zuko he knew before. Up until Caldera, he can’t remember ever seeing Zuko laugh, even at events like this. 

“Come on,” he says, “I’m gonna show you what a real party looks like!”

Laughing at the bewildered expression on Zuko’s face, Sokka pulls him in and lets the crowd swallow them up. He’s surprised how pleased he is by Zuko’s physical presence next to him. He doesn’t even mind the unfairness of Zuko being taller than him anymore. 

There’s dancing, and mingling, and Katara making a speech because that’s who she is. Something about the fund for the Water Tribe’s Cultural Centers in Republic City that they’re supporting with their fundraiser. Sokka ducks a flirtation from a red-headed actress he recognises from a few recent movers, and beside him Zuko seems bemused but like he’s actually having fun. Katara finds them at some point and steals Zuko away, and when he finds them again they’re perched on the tables they set up. Sokka watches them from afar, wondering what they could possibly be talking about that has Katara nearly falling off her stool laughing, until the crowd overtakes him.

The band eventually breaks and a DJ takes over with a mix of music that Sokka recognises from his youth, all the greatest hits that came out when he was a child and were somehow still in rotation at dances in his teens. That’s when Zuko finds him, like a man lost at sea.

Sokka is swaying enthusiastically, a teasing, crooked grin on his face as Zuko watches him awkwardly. The only one on the floor not really moving.

“What, you don’t dance in the Fire Nation?”

“We do,” he insists. “i just don't- Not like this!”

On the dancefloor, it’s hard to tell if the prince is flushing, or it’s just the coloured filter of the disco lights. Sokka puts his hands on Zuko’s hips, making him sway in time with him, and Zuko tenses. When Sokka looks back up at Zuko’s face, he’s pretty sure that it is a blush. 

“You’ve gotta loosen these hips, buddy,” he laughs. 

“Sokka I don’t-”

“Just watch me, like this,” and Sokka continues to move his own hips in time with the steady _buh-dum dum-dum_ of the music, “Watch.”

Zuko takes a long swig of his sparkling wine, and says “I am.”

Sokka can’t contain his grin, and he spots Yue passing, sparkling silver under the lights, and Sokka grabs her hand and pulls her into a twirl. “I’m trying to get Prince Charming over here to dance like a normal person!” he yells over the music. A strange expression flits over Yue’s face for a second, before she laughs. 

Yue spins Sokka away from Zuko and plants her hands on his waist, and starts swaying her hips in time with his. Sokka whoops and Yue cackles and the crowd jumps around and Zuko just stares. Sokka likes Zuko staring. 

His face is shocked and confused and it’s a bit hilarious, but beyond that there’s a strange spark in his gut at the way Zuko is still just _watching._ Sokka pouts at him, and shakes his ass and then, finally, after another long moment, Zuko finally starts to bop his head. 

“Yes!” Sokka yells, claiming it as a victory as Zuko shakes his hips a little. 

The night starts to blur together, through all the chaotic fun. But the good kind of blur. The happy buzz that Sokka feels in his stomach at watching Zuko let loose a little. Yue is still giggling behind him and it’s _brilliant._ The laughter, and the lights, and the decadence of it all is just ridiculous in all the best ways.

Katara sidles up beside him at some point, pushing a glass of water in his hand, because she likes proving she’s the responsible one. But she’s got that soft smile on her face when she glances at Zuko twirling Toph on the dancefloor, and back at him. 

“I thought you didn’t want to look after him all night?”

Sokka rolls his eyes at the teasing tone, and chugs the water. “And I thought _you_ were too busy to date anyone right now?”

As if summoned by his words, Aang appears at her shoulder saying something about how the next song is going to be so good, and she just rolls her eyes at Sokka and disappears back into the throng. Yue grabs his hand and pulls him back into the huddle too, and he leaves the water half drunk on the table.

Aang’s right; the next song is another recognisable, certifiable bop, and so are the ones that come after it. The party is in full swing, and somewhere along the way to midnight, Zuko snags a bottle of sparkling wine, the same as from the wedding, and starts drinking directly from it. Sokka likes the look on Zuko’s face, the sure curl of his hand around the neck of the bottle, the way his lips wrap around the mouth of it. Zuko’s willingness to dance is directly proportional to his proximity to Sokka’s hands, and the amount of giddy warmth bubbling under Sokka’s skin is directly proportional to the cut of Zuko’s mouth when he watches him with Yue. It’s an equation he is not nearly sober enough to work out.

The countdown arrives and it’s as loud and chaotic and beautiful as the rest of the evening. Sokka can feel the buzzing under his skin, with Yue’s arms around his neck and Zuko’s hand at his _waist._ So close as they stare up at the clock he watched them hang over the ballroom two days ago. Yue’s voice is loud and close and giddy in his ear as she screams “ _three, two, one!”_ and he whoops with her before turning his face to press a sloppy kiss to her lips. It tastes like plums. It tastes like her lip gloss and every other new year’s he’s spent with her. The both of them affectionate and silly and perpetually single. 

When he pulls back, he knows that glittery lip gloss is smeared on his lips, and he grins dopily down at her as she ruffles his hair. As she pulls away from him, turning to kiss Katara on the cheek, Sokka realises Zuko’s hand is no longer pressed against his back.

He tilts his head round, and finds Zuko, who’s expression has shifted from a rare carefree grin to unreadable. He feels his own smile grow wider, until Zuko turns away and toward the bottle of sparkling wine clutched in his fist, from which he takes a hearty swig before disappearing into the crowd.

Sokka loses track of things after that, as the music thuds to full volume again, and the fray descends into more close, hot dancing. Yue bobs by on the back of some hot rookie pro-bender. And Sokka finds himself laughing at her as she sticks her hand out for a high five.

But somewhere, beneath the buzz and the music, he can’t stop noticing that Zuko has disappeared. 

It's not even that he's worried, per say. He'd told Katara he didn't want to spend the night looking after him. But there's an absence that he feels; he'd been enjoying pushing all those buttons he knows Zuko has, and being finally able to read his reactions. So he keeps looking, until he trips over his own feet by one of the open doors to one of the balconies overlooking the canal. 

He half expects it to be like Caldera, when he found Zuko on a balcony halfway across the world. But this time Zuko hears his approach because he half-turns, looking out the corner of his good eye at Sokka as he stands back up. His hand brushes against Zuko’s as he joins him in leaning on the balcony rail. It’s so _warm._ A zip of electricity passes between them, and Zuko’s hand jolts away slightly. 

Sokka doesn’t quite know what to make of it. 

“What are you doing out here?” Zuko asks, watching Sokka as if he’s suspicious of him. Which is ridiculous, because Sokka never does anything suspicious. 

“I could ask you the same thing.”

Zuko’s breath comes out in a huff, and just like the wedding that started all this there’s _sparks_ on it. Perhaps that’s why he looks like the cold isn’t bothering him, even though he’s only still in his red silk jacket. Perhaps that’s why his hand felt so _warm._ Sokka himself should be freezing in his shirt, but his chest feels warm with the adrenaline rush of a good party, and something else. Something heady that his brain keeps stumbling over, trying to name.

“I was looking at the stars,” Zuko shrugs, pulling Sokka from the blood pounding in his ears. He casts a glance at the sky too and, yeah, they’re beautiful, but that’s hardly on the list of fun party activities. 

“Well that’s _riveting.”_

“Shut up,” Zuko mutters, sounding like his old sullen self that Sokka first thought he knew, but he winces. “Sorry, I didn’t- It just gets a bit _much._ Sometimes.” 

Sokka keeps looking at him. Usually, there’s something about the set of Zuko’s mouth - so often set in a scowl - that betrays his much buried friendliness. Right now, the scowl is resolute, and the cautious, guarded expression that had irritated Sokka for so many years is firmly stuck in place.

Sokka leans closer again, nudging his shoulder against Zukos and the corner of Zuko’s mouth twitches, the scowl flickering in place. These things—big events, letting other people feed on his own energy—are rarely too much for Sokka. He’s not sure how Zuko feels, but some part of his brain thinks maybe it would be helpful if Zuko could take what he can handle, and Sokka could handle the rest. Maybe he can absorb some of the “much” from the place where their shoulders are pressed together. 

A muscle in Zuko’s jaw moves, and something soft, almost like a smile, tugs at his lips. “D’you ever wonder,” he says slowly, “what it’s like to be some anonymous person out in the world?” 

Sokka frowns. “What do you mean?” “

"If your dad weren’t the Chief and you were just a normal guy living a normal life, what things might be like?" Zuko says, "What would you be doing instead?” 

“Ah,” Sokka says thoughtfully. The trouble is, he’s never really wanted to do anything but this. He doesn’t know if he has a brain for anything other than tactics and politics apart from, well- “I’d be an inventor!” He says, with such certainty that it makes Zuko roll his eyes. “What about you?”

“An actor, like my mother maybe,” he sighs, sipping from the bottle again, “or a writer. A poet.”

“Prince of the Fire Nation can’t just become a poet?” Sokka thinks he probably knew this about Zuko. Something about him just _oozes_ theatre nerd, author, _writer_ , now that Sokka knows him better. He’d be good at it, too. 

“It’s not proper,” Zuko says, “I’m third in line for the throne, I can’t just- I’m supposed to serve in the Fire Navy. I can’t exactly sit around writing verses about my quarter life angst, it would be dishonorable.”

Personally, Sokka doesn’t see why. One seems like a much more _Zuko_ activity. When he looks across at him, silhouetted against the night sky, with snowflakes in his hair, Zuko is biting his lip thoughtfully.

“I’d probably date more, too,” he says, so quietly Sokka nearly misses it, but when it registers Sokka’s eyebrows raise almost to his hairline. 

“You expect me to believe _you’re_ struggling to get a date?” 

He may be awkward, and outwardly sullen, when you first meet him, but Zuko is a Prince. He’s a hot Prince of the Fire Nation, and he’s clever, and strong, and secretly very funny. Sokka can’t understand why someone _wouldn’t_ want to date Zuko.

“It’s difficult!” he insists, “Finding the _proper_ person to date.”

“Ah, so this is to do with the Fire Nation stick up your ass?” Sokka nods.

“No! It’s-” Zuko huffs, and Sokka can see his fist clenching on the railing. His knuckles white in the bright moonlight. “I just don’t have a lot of options over people I want to date. Who’d be willing to date me.”

“Oh come _on,”_ Sokka scoffs, “I mean, even if you’re a jerk like, 80% of the time, someone’s gotta be willing to date you, right? I mean who would turn down the Fire Nation’s very own Prince Charming?”

“I-,” Zuko falters, and he’s looking very curiously at Sokka. Sokka just grins back in response. “I’m not able to pursue the people I’d be interested in. Not freely.”

Sokka doesn’t see how that’s not circling back to what he’d said before. When he laughs shortly, the air comes out in a visible, foggy breath in the cold. He’s still looking over at Zuko. His face is knitted together in frustration, illuminated by the moon, and Sokka really doesn’t understand why he can’t get anyone to date him. He’s breathtaking.

Sokka shakes his head. “I just don’t get it.” 

“You don’t?”

“Nope!”

Sokka pops the ‘p’ and Zuko lets out a sound that’s a growl of frustration. 

“Agni, give me strength, I thought you were supposed to be _smart_.” 

Then all of a sudden, those deliciously warm hands are on either side of his face, and he’s being pushed up against the balcony railing, and Zuko’s lips are on his. An almost desperate kiss that makes Sokka freeze as he tries to process it.

When he first visited Agna Qel’a, while trying to impress Yue no less, Sokka fell into the canal. Something about being doused in icy cold water that empties your brain entirely of thoughts. That feeling of short-circuiting, the one he's feeling again right now, should overwhelm Sokka, but instead of icy cold he feels so fucking _hot._

Zuko kisses with the same intense sincerity that Sokka is starting to learn he does just about everything. The awkwardness that seems to hold him back at every turn has been vanquished for whatever reason - whether it’s the alcohol, or the time spent knowing Sokka, he doesn’t particularly care. He’s trying to make sense of a five year old grudge, months of texting and phone calls at bizarre times of the night, and how those things combined to end with Zuko _kissing him._

And beyond that, faintly, Sokka is registering the fact that he really doesn’t mind. 

His eyes flutter closed and finally, _finally,_ Sokka is able to make his hands move. Sluggish and tentative as he shrugs off his surprise. One sliding round Zuko’s waist and the other wraps round the lapel of his jacket. As he tugs Zuko closer against him, his mouth slides open and it’s _nothing_ like kissing Yue or anyone else has ever been. He’s pretty sure it’s the worst cliche, when kissing a firebender of all people, to have it feel like fireworks are going off in his poor overworked brain, but it _does._ Zuko is so fucking encompassing as he pulls Sokka’s bottom lip gently between his teeth, and he can’t contain the soft, delighted sound that rises out of his throat, cutting into the silence and the cold, northern night air. 

The sound shatters something, though, because it sends Zuko pushing back away from him, stumbling out of Sokka’s hands. It’s all he can do to blink in confusion, barely able to focus on Zuko’s face, good eye wide as he curses. 

Sokka likes the soft sound of a curse on Zuko’s lips almost as much as he liked the kiss.

But while he’s registering this, and his brain is playing catch up over the past few minutes, he is left staring at the open door to the balcony as Zuko disappears through it.

 _"_ Oh _,”_ Sokka breathes, raising a cautious hand to brush against his thoroughly kissed lips. 

_Oh._

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE ITALICIZED OH, EVERYBODY.
> 
> If you wanna really vibe with that last scene listen to Kiss the Boy by Keiynan Lonsdale. There is a whole chronological playlist for this fic that I put on every time I’m writing so like, hmu if you want me to link that, I guess?
> 
> Also I’m sorry to Bakoda shippers for making them fight. I promise they’re all good really they're just like, going through it. And yes, I am saying Bato/Hakoda/Kya rights with my whole chest xoxo
> 
> Also Also I can’t believe that, as I’m writing a RWARB AU, that I haven’t reminded my American readers to make sure they’re registered to vote/to get their ballots sent off! 
> 
> EDIT: there's now a Zuko POV of this because I can't be tamed. Check it out [here!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27095632)


	5. Radio Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sokka's Bisexual Awakening.

Sokka's head has not stopped spinning since New Year's. 

The flight back from Agna Qel’a, with Yue accompanying them, had been long and tedious when they were all exhausted from the party. Katara, to her credit, didn’t comment on the lack of his usual whining complaints. Yue did keep shooting him strange looks, and he could not meet her eyes. But there was no way she could know anything for sure. 

Home in Harbour City, it’s not long before the end of year lul is swept aside in favour of meetings and assignments and things that should distract Sokka from the kiss, but they don’t. Not when underneath it all, the memory of Zuko’s lips on his is swimming in his mind. Preying on his attention span like a tiger-seal. 

The scene plays out as if he were watching it in a mover, and it does something peculiar to his insides every time. 

Zuko had been gone by the time he got inside. Toph and Aang too, the three of them spiriting themselves away like something out of a children’s tale. Sokka hadn’t got the chance to ask him _what on earth_ the kiss was about, or would he, maybe, want to do it again? Zuko had just run off. And Sokka hasn’t heard from him since. Not a single text. 

The worst part, aside from not knowing what it all means, is that he can’t tell anyone. For all Yue’s curious looks and Katara’s intuition, he can’t _tell_ them. What would he even say? What’s he _allowed_ to say? He thinks of the dreadfully long NDA Mai made him sign that he only skimmed and knows things like this are probably covered by that. Spirits, this is probably _why_ they made him sign the damn thing. And now he has nothing but radio silence in return to all his burning questions. 

He’s quite frankly dying to know if this has always been on Zuko’s mind. Does Zuko have a crush on him? If so then why did he spend five years throwing fuel on the dumpster fire of their attempt at international relations? This was a strong u-turn from the asshole that Zuko used to be, when they first met, but it’s almost just as far off course from the friendship Sokka thought they had. 

Why won’t Zuko just text him back?

“Okay, what is it?!” Katara slams the door to her own bedroom shut as she stomps into his when he lets out another heavy sigh. Sokka hastily shoves his phone into his hoodie pocket and gives her a sheepish look. 

“Nothing.” 

“Bullshit,” she calls, "I can't think with your stupid, loud pacing!" Then she yanks his parka off the hook by the door and throws it at him. He raises an eyebrow, before he looks back up at her, and realises she’s already got her own on. 

Ah. 

They’re going Waterbending.

Sokka’s presence at Waterbending practice with Katara started when he was fifteen, and they realised he needed an outlet just as much as she did. Of course, he can’t bend the water, much to his chagrin back when they started. But going through the motions and the breathing is, according to Katara, a great way to calm his racing thoughts. As if it will stop them stumbling over each other. 

Still, he pulls his parka on and follows her out to the courtyard, taking up the first stance opposite her, as she pulls water from the frozen fountain beside them. She begins moving through the first form, and gives him a look that tells him he better start mirroring her or he’s going to get hit with the water.

As he closes his eyes, inhaling another deep cooling breath, and moves through the stances he knows Katara will be doing, he thinks the funniest thing about all the chaos in his brain is the fact that he’s not even interested in guys. 

His life has been full of interesting people. Travelling with his parents to and from Republic City and the Earth Kingdom and all over the world, really, he’s met enough pretty girls to know he _likes_ girls. He dated Yue and it was great. He liked it. They just didn’t work out. And when Suki started working for them, he and Yue both gushed over how brilliant she was. So he _knows_ he likes women. 

When Teo from his Engineering class came out, he remembers thinking how he could never do anything like that. But only because he didn’t need to, right? 

His mind wanders to Jet as well, and the memory of being sixteen. The summer after Katara broke up with Jet, and they were both in Republic City. Both of them fresh out of high school, and celebrating by making out in Sokka’s bedroom at Bato’s apartment. That kiss hadn’t given him whatever crisis he was having now. If it had, he’d be less convinced of his own sexuality. That was just a friendly kiss between friends. Just two boys and normal teenage hormones. And if maybe, just maybe, they'd made out a few more times, and sometimes the making out got a little _heated,_ that didn't necessarily mean anything either. That was still just the both of them on their horny, adolescent male bullshit.

It didn’t mean anything. 

So why did Zuko’s kiss feel like it meant everything?

Katara clears her throat and Sokka cracks an eyelid to look at her. He realises she’s nearly a full form ahead of him. He takes another steadying breath as he tries to refocus. She’s still giving him a funny look as the water trails between her hands, and he tries to focus on that, rather than her face. 

The breathing and the movement does little to make his head clearer. His mind is still drifting back to being a teenager. Growing up with Dad and Bato, even if they never explicitly said anything. The relative progressiveness of the Southern Water Tribe compared to the North and the Earth Kingdom, where gender roles meant different rules once upon a time. Working for Piandao and finding it kind of cute when his husband brought him lunches on busy days in the office. Thinking one day he’d like that for himself. But definitely with a girl, right? 

So yeah, between his messy hormonal teenage years, and his upbringing to know it was A-Okay if he _did_ like boys, he’s always figured he’d just _know_ if he did. Sokka has questions about damn near everything, but he’s never given himself cause to question this.

As he and Katara shift in sync to the next form, he spots a flaw in his usually infallible logic. Boys who aren’t interested in boys, he thinks, probably don’t have to spend this much time convincing themselves of that fact.

It’s not even that anyone would _mind,_ really. Sure, people his age are a little more interested in his dating life than people in the Water Tribes used to be in the private lives of their politicians, but it’s not like his Dad and Bato are some big secret. If he did date a boy, it wouldn’t be the end of his political ambitions. Least of all for the Republic City council seat. Piandao and Bato are both testament to that much. 

But it’s still not ideal, to have a relationship - or whatever is going on with Zuko, because _relationship_ is far too heavy a word - this close to an election. When opinion on his dad could turn on a yuan, and right now that yuan looks a lot like Sokka being… whatever. It limits his universal appeal. The Northern Candidates can use it against them. Against him. It’s a reason to just push away this kind of self-examination. 

Because Water Tribe boys who kiss Fire Nation Princes and like it don’t get elected to represent the tribe.

With that, his thoughts drift, as they always have when he tries to do anything recently, towards Zuko. 

_Zuko._

There’s more than just the kiss; there’s the raspy voice over his phone at 3 AM when it’s definitely too late for Zuko to be calling him; the memory of soft moonlit cheekbones and the smell of cigarettes; the sound of a hard-won laugh. It's just that, in light of the kiss, the warmth that Sokka felt every time he opened a notification on his phone now makes more sense. 

The kiss is a permanent feature in his brain. Zuko on a balcony. Zuko with starlight in his hair. Zuko’s warm hands on his face, and Zuko’s tongue tasting of wine as it slipped between his lips. The overwhelming scent of sandalwood and jasmine, and the feel of a soft silk jacket beneath Sokka’s hands as he pulled Zuko in closer. Pulling Zuko closer, and running his hands over the taught muscle he knows hides beneath clothes so fashionable they have to have been picked out by Mai because Zuko’s too much of a dork to manage that. Zuko’s impossibly warm body in his arms is the prevailing picture in his head.

Zuko’s body under him, and over him, and-

Katara’s water whip hits him firmly in the side of the head. Drenching him with water as he splutters. 

“Katara?!” he snaps his eyes open, levelling her with a pout immediately. He’d still been moving through the forms hadn’t he?

Katara rolls her eyes as he rings the water out of his wolftail. “You got sloppy. Your brain is clearly not in this. So… you want to tell me what’s going on?”

No. He does not. 

He opens his mouth then shuts it again. Shaking the water off his hand with a decisive flick before he turns to stalk back into the palace.

“Just leave it, Katara.”

Back in his room, he pulls out a pen and a post it note. Heading to the only free space on his chaotic wall, behind the door where Katara’s not as likely to see. 

He writes up three notes with careful concentration. As if getting them out there will make his thoughts less jumbled. Just like the web of political intricacies on the other side of the room. The intricacies of Sokka’s head and maybe, just maybe, his heart.

One. He’s attracted to Zuko.

Two. He wants to kiss Zuko again.

Three. He may have wanted to kiss Zuko the entire spiritsdamned time.

Sokka stares mutely at the bright orange pieces of paper tacked to his wall. As if by doing so, they will magically rearrange themselves into some kind of explanation for him. When nothing changes he lets his head fall heavily against the wall with a thud. Because, really, he already knows exactly what all these factors will add up to mean. 

Suki is the next person to work out that something is Up with Sokka. When she’s hauling his ass into a cafe in the Harbour City centre, tearing him a new one because somehow he forgot their monthly coffee. Since when does _Sokka,_ who’s schedule is so meticulously curated, forget things like coffee dates with one of his best friends. It’s unheard of.

This is what she tells him as she slides him his drink, across the table in the corner they usually haunt when they come here. 

“I mean, what’s up with you?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugs, and Suki looks less likely to take that answer than Katara was. Less likely to just leave it, too. 

“Is this something I need to worry about?”

“As a friend or as my security guard?” He sounds more glum than he means to, as he stirs entirely too much sugar through his drink. Looking up, he winces at the slightly wounded expression on her face. “Sorry, I didn’t mean that.”

“Yeah, no shit,” Suki mutters, reaching out to lay her hand over his. “I’m your guard, yes, but I’m your friend too. Are you going to tell me what’s up?”

He thinks about it. It would be so easy to tell her and get her help because he knows she likes women, when the line between professional and being their friend blurs and she talks about dates with people of every gender. It’s just that telling Suki would lead to questions he’s not ready to answer yet, because she’s professionally obligated to make sure this doesn’t become some kind of an issue.

So he shakes his head and takes a sip of his coffee, and she frowns back at him but accepts it. She stirs her own drink - tea, because Suki won’t be caught dead drinking coffee - before giving him another calculating look. 

“Well, you need to do something,” she urges, and lets her grin turn more teasing, “You don’t want to lose that trademark Sokka Charm.”

That’s how he ends up bursting into his Dad’s office, the day after the coffee date, brimming with determination to bury this. Because he can. He can do that. Kissing Zuko doesn’t have to mean anything.

“I want to start now.” 

His dad looks up, raising a heavy eyebrow in confusion. “Start what?”

“The job,” he says. “The campaign job. I’m not going to wait until I graduate. I already read all the materials.”

“Katara won’t like it.”

“Then let her start on some real part-time work doing speeches for you when she’s twenty next month.” 

“Sokka,” Hakoda sets the paper in his hand down to eye him curiously. It sounds like an extension of his outburst at the Solstice dinner, about not treating them like kids. But it’s more like a necessary sacrifice. Katara will never get off his case if he starts now and she’s stuck on extracurricular voluntary assistance. So yeah, he’ll help her get a job if it will help him keep himself distracted.

“Dad, _please_ ,” Sokka says, impatiently bouncing like he always does when he’s got a fire under his ass. “I’m ready, I graduate in a few months anyway and I’m already ahead of my workload. How much more could I need to know to do this? Put me in, Chief.” 

Katara won’t stop asking him how he got their Dad to offer her a part-time job, when before New Year’s, he’d been so against it. But it makes her stop questioning what’s up with him, even when she finds out he’s starting his own campaign job now instead of the summer. Concern flashes across her face when Hakoda shares the news, but she doesn’t push him on it. 

He’s sure that’s going to be a temporary thing.

The new week starts and he finds himself out of breath from sprinting across the city from his lecture to his father’s campaign offices, following an intern who might match Zuko in the caffeination department. He stamps down the thought of Zuko as he’s handed a badge, a binder, and shown to a cubicle, shared with a Northerner named Hahn who has an extremely punchable face.

Sokka flips open the binder, fielding questions from Hahn about his Dad and the Palace and, of all things, whether he thinks Yue would be up for going out with a drink for him. Yue, who only works a little down the hall in the polling department, would without a doubt _not_ be interested, but Sokka ducks this question as he looks at the results of their latest focus groups. 

He’s not thinking about Zuko. 

Not between his campaign ideas, and the twenty-five hours he does in the first week when he promised his dad he’d only do sixteen, and the essays that he refuses to fall behind on. He’s decidedly _not_ thinking about Zuko. Not when he’s downing over-sugared coffee from the keep-cup Katara got him for his last birthday. Not when that coffee then combines unhelpfully with the growing insomnia to keep him lying awake at night, alone in a too-big bed. 

He’s _not_ thinking about Zuko.

Except he is.

Always.

Sokka is fast running out of ideas on how to deal with this issue. He’s the plan guy, but right now his plan is failing rather catastrophically. Underneath a workload that should bury him he’s still just a little bit obsessed with the way it felt when Zuko pulled his lip between his teeth.

When he’s in the campaign offices, he keeps drifting over to the chaos and the familiar numbers and graphs of the polling section, where Yue sits, most days, enshrined in data and spreadsheets. Hahn has become an unfortunately common factor of these visits, so it’s hard to talk about anything real with her, without still wanting to punch Hahn. But Sokka's a professional so he doesn’t. 

And besides, after the first week where his Dad already threatened to cut his hours, Sokka doesn’t want to push it. 

Yue has something of a gravitational pull in her own department, anyway. She’s brilliant with numbers, as well as being probably the nicest person he knows. So of course that translates to Work Friends. It’s not that Sokka’s unpopular - he’s too competent to be unpopular, and his jokes are met with pained but delighted groans. That trademark Sokka charm is still going strong. But it’s not _enough._

Not anymore. 

When his new coworkers hit on him, he’s _flattered_ but it’s not the same as it would have been before New Year’s. And he knows it. He knows the awkward brush off he gives to the people who act like they know him because they read his profile in _Varrick's,_ but in actual fact have no idea who he _really_ is, are tinged with more longing than they have any right to be. 

He’s definitely thinking about _Zuko._

He’s buried in the work, and surrounded by acquaintances who think he’s hot and clever, and he has enough distractions to last a lifetime, but it’s still not enough to really pull him out of his own head. Because his head is still full of Zuko, who knows him. Zuko, who knows he’s a bit afraid of ghosts even if he doesn’t believe in them. Zuko who tolerates him, and kissed him like he wanted him. Singularly, and not just the idea of him. 

Sokka’s thinking about Zuko, every damn second, no matter how hard he tries not to. His brain stuck on repeat, wondering hopelessly if Zuko is also thinking of him.

It’s another week - and another week of complete silence on Zuko’s end - before Sokka starts to think maybe, just maybe, he should ask someone for advice about this.

Suki is still an option but she also… _isn’t._ He doesn’t even consider talking to Katara because how would he even _do_ that without dying of embarrassment?

Yue, on the other hand, who came out about six months after she broke up with him, seems like the obvious choice. Her coming out could have been a blow to Sokka’s ego, but it never was. He liked to think he wasn’t that shallow. And they still split the profits of betting against Katara on what the tabloids are speculating about them 50/50. 

So that’s how, after a numbingly silent Wednesday, with too few university contact hours and his dad’s strict new rule about Sokka only working the agreed number of hours coinciding to create a Zuko-shaped storm in Sokka’s head, he ends up in Yue’s Harbour City apartment. She’s his best friend, and she gets this stuff, and she’s known something has been Up with him since New Year’s. 

He might as well clue her in on what. 

She’s also probably neck deep in polling numbers right now, despite not seeing her round the office when he was there, but he’s hoping the box of noodles he’s brought for the both of them might tempt her away from those. When she buzzes him up to his apartment without answering though, he starts to suspect it might not be as easy as all that. 

“Migraine?” he asks softly, leaning against her door frame when he reaches her usually breezy studio apartment. All the blinds are pulled and Yue is resting on the bed next to her desk. She gives a hum of confirmation, eyes still closed.

“Too much screen time, I think,” she says softly, nodding to the two laptops on her desk, running Fire Nation News and a breakdown of the Northern Water Tribe primary vote simultaneously, both muted, one on each screen. They fill the otherwise dark room with a faint glow. “It’s not that bad, honestly. And besides, I needed a break. Katara’s been getting on at me about Work-Life balance again.” 

Yeah, she’s been getting on at him about the same.

He sets the bag with the noodles down on her desk then turns to head instead to the kitchen. Yue always has a wonderfully stocked kitchen. When he returns, five minutes later, with a mug of what he hopes is nice ginger tea with a teaspoon of honey stirred through, she looks perplexed. She sits up a bit and gives him a questioning look.

"Zuko gave me some advice about brewing tea, " he shrugs, and Yue's eyebrows raise further.

"Oh he _did?"_

Sokka sighs. 

“I don’t have to bother you with this right now,” he’s already second guessing his decision to come here. Maybe he can just keep throwing himself into his work and eventually, he’ll get over it. Maybe he’ll be over it by the time the Tribes Dinner comes around at the end of the month. “It’s kind of… a lot.” 

“It’s alright,” she murmurs, her voice soft as she pats the spot next to her among the downy blankets on the bed. “I want to help.”

He joins her on the bed, wrapping an arm around her shoulders as she leans back against him. Head rising and falling on his chest in time with his steady breaths. He thinks about her, and their old relationship, and he thinks about Zuko, and himself, and what it might mean.

The North used to have some rules about this kind of thing, and so technically when the South were more under the Northern thumb so did they, just never as rigorously observed. And still not nearly as many as the Fire Nation or the Earth Kingdom used to have. Still have in some ways, and in some of the Earth Kingdom states. Maybe that’s why he’s never thought about his own sexuality until it was forcibly dragged to the forefront of his consciousness. Because it’s been such a non-issue in his life until, very suddenly, it was. 

“So, uh, statistically speaking,” he ventures cautiously, “Chances of me being into guys?”

Yue’s eyes widen, her mouth forming a perfect ‘o’ when she turns her head to blink up at him. She rolls her lips together, thinking about it for half a second. “Yeah, I’d take those chances.”

Sokka nods, letting out a breath through his nose. Yue nudges him gently with her elbow. Katara and Suki may push him, when they know he’s holding something back, but Yue is his best friend. It is Yue who can actually get answers out of him. He loves Katara and Suki, but Katara is his little sister, and Suki technically works for him. 

Yue is just Yue. His best friend. 

He can tell his best friend that he kissed the Prince of the Fire Nation.

“You know New Year’s? When I kind of dipped after midnight?” It’s easier to say it all when he’s staring at her ceiling for some reason. “Zuko kissed me.” 

“Oh,” she doesn’t sound surprised, but Sokka feels her nod, “I didn’t know what- I mean, I knew _something_ happened. Nice one!”

Sokka tilts his gaze down to look at her. Eyebrows knitting together. “You’re not more surprised?”

“Well, I mean. Zuko’s into men and speaking _completely_ objectively, you’re hot.”

The normal egotistical little comment he’d make in response to Yue calling him hot is completely blindsided by her revelation that Zuko is interested in men. How does _Yue_ know that about Zuko, when it’s been another missing piece of his puzzle for the past three weeks?

“How do you know he’s interested in guys? Did he tell you?”

“No, but he didn’t have to,” she shrugs loosely, leaning her head back against his chest. “It’s the usual stuff, you know? Patterns and data and a logical conclusion. It’s just… obvious.”

When she doesn’t elaborate, further, Sokka frowns. How was he supposed to work that out? He can’t even tell if he’s interested in guys. Worrying about whether or not Zuko was was barely a blip on his radar. 

“Did you really not know that?”

“No?”

“Sokka, I thought you were supposed to be smart.” 

Sokka damps down on the fact that that’s exactly what Zuko said before he kissed him and caused this whole mess, and drags a weary hand over his face. 

“I just- How can he spring a kiss on me without even telling me he’s- _Oh.”_

He flashes briefly back to everything Zuko had been trying to say on the balcony on New Year’s eve. All the stuff about the _proper_ person to date. Someone who Zuko would want to date. Someone who _wasn’t a woman._ Because Zuko’s a Prince, which means he can’t date men. 

“Is that the sound of a yuan dropping?” Yue teases. 

“He’s always on dates with girls.”

She nods, “Photographed dates.”

Sokka can’t believe he was so stupid. Of _course_ that’s what Zuko was trying to tell him. So yeah, maybe the kiss shouldn’t have been that surprising because Zuko tried to tell him he was interested in guys. And maybe that meant he was interested in Sokka. 

_No._

He can address the fact of whether or not Zuko is interested in him later. He has to work out what’s going on with him first. And the fact that he literally cannot stop thinking about Zuko, like some pining pre-teen with a crush. 

“Putting a pin in that one,” he says, “What about the kiss?”

“What _about_ the kiss?” Yue grins, “Was it good? Did he slip you the tongue? Is his hair as soft as it looks?”

“Yue,” Sokka pinches the bridge of his nose, and wonders if maybe he’s got a migraine coming on. Her teasing is all in good fun, though, and the sound of her laugh softens his expression. 

“Come on, Sokka,” she says, “Tell your _real_ best friend about the joys of kissing the prince of your dreams.”

“Yes, his hair is that soft,” he mutters finally, “And he’s not the ‘Prince of my Dreams.’”

“Oh come _on,”_ she laughs, twisting a little under his arm so she can grin up at him, “he _absolutely_ is. Pass the noodles.” 

He does as she says, reaching behind him for the noodles he left on the desk, and scowling as he hands them to her. He silently accepts the box she passes him, but all he can do is poke at it half-heartedly.

“I can’t stop thinking about it,” he sighs finally, “the kiss.”

Yue snorts, pulling the noodles apart a little with one hand and pulling out her phone to skim through the latest news updates with the other, then smirks at him. “I’m not surprised.”

“You’re not?”

“Well… no?” she shrugs, “I mean, you’ve wanted to bang it out with him forever, right?” 

_“What?”_

“I mean,” she sits back, looking him full in the face. This is how she looks when she’s pulling apart statistics with razor precision. The expression one he’s seen when she’s about to predict with a 0.5% degree of accuracy how a poll is likely to come up. Yue is a genius, and she’s worked something out about him that’s still a mystery, and isn’t that just a little intimidating? 

“Listen, Sokka, I love you, but you’ve been sort of… obsessed with Zuko for years, right?” she holds up a finger at the end of her rhetorical question before he can get an answer out. “Then you do whatever it was at the wedding, and in Caldera you get his _number_ and rather than do anything, oh I don’t know, _professional_ with it like I’m going to guess you said you would, you just text him all day. I watched you make moon eyes at that thing all of last month, and those are the eyes you used to make at _me._ You spent the entirety of the New Year’s party with him, even though you said that’s exactly what you didn’t want to do, then he _kisses you,_ you _liked it_ , and now you’ve not heard from him since and literally everyone can tell something is up with you.”

Sokka is starting to wonder how many forceful realisations he can be dragged to in the short space of a few weeks. 

“I just don’t…” he starts, unsure of himself. “Listen, I get that it looks like I have a crush on him, or whatever but… why would he even like _me_? Up until a few months ago, our every interaction has been hostile. We upturned an entire wedding banquet."

"Yeah," she nods, "but it's not like you have the best track record for first impressions on people you think are attractive."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

“Sokka when you first met me you fell in a canal.”

And yeah, Sokka admittedly still has flashbacks to that first meeting. There are parts of Agna Qel’a he can’t visit but for blushing and thinking about how members of his Dad’s security team had to fish him out of the canal while Yue just stood on the path barely concealing giggles. That was one of the first times his ability to be an idiot around people he apparently thought were hot landed him in international newspapers. So perhaps, he'll admit, she has a point.

Still, he frowns and lets out a deep sigh. 

"This is different, I don't know if I'm attracted to him like that or if I just…" 

He trails off, not really sure how to put it into words.

“What, do you want to _do an activity with him?”_ Yue teases, cheeks full with mirth as her face and hair are lit up by the faint glow of her phone screen as she goes back to flicking through it, and pulling at her noodles. Sokka scowls at her but goes back to chewing his lip.

“I don’t know… maybe?” he sighs, somewhat dreamily, then because he can’t help himself, “I can certainly think of _one_ activity I’d like to do with him.”

“Ew! Sokka, gross!”

“What, like I didn’t hear you talk about how hot you thought Suki was back when we first met her!”

She concedes the point, and they fall back into a comfortable silence again. He lets his mind wander a little, and lands on one of the reasons he came to Yue for help in the first place. 

"Hey, um, how did you know you liked girls?"

"What?"

"Like, you knew when you were seventeen, right? Well… how?"

"Oh, um," she pauses for a moment. "To be honest, I think I knew long before seventeen. But then we broke up, and then I met this girl, kissed her. It wasn't exactly earth-shattering, Sokka. It just kind of… was. Hardly worth writing poetry about."

"Oh."

"Sorry, that's probably not helpful."

It's not, but only because Sokka feels like he probably could at the very least manage a haiku about the kiss, if not an entire fucking renga. 

Which still doesn't exactly mean he's not into guys.

"What are you going to do?"

"Hm?"

"About Zuko?"

"Oh," Solka falters, because he still doesn't really know what he can do. Zuko won't text him back and won't answer his calls. There's not a lot he can do, short of flying to Caldera to confront him. And he's not that dramatic. Not to mention the fact he could never clear it with Suki. 

"I have no idea," he says, and isn't that a novel sentence. "Besides, he was pretty drunk when it happened. And as soon as I kissed him back, he dipped, so I doubt-"

"Sokka," Yue sounds firm as she cuts him off, "I promise he _likes_ you. He's just freaking out."

"Right…"

"I mean it. You've just got to decide what to do about it."

Sokka crashes back into the palace dead on his feet and starting to regret his decisions just a little. His day of classes has had him bouncing across campus, and then all the way to the campaign offices on the other side of Harbour, because somehow he forgot about the speech he’s doing this weekend. He’s still working out the balance, or so he’s been insisting to Katara when she gives him a questioning look as he thuds heavily down their shared corridor.

“You missed dinner,” Katara calls from her room, as he reaches his closed door, and immediately makes him thunk his head against it. 

“Thanks, Katara, I hadn’t noticed.” 

“Well there’s no need to sound like such a sour prune,”she taunts, even though there absolutely is. Between the running around and the missing dinner, he’s mostly running on coffee right now. While he sits down on the floor of the corridor to unlace his winter boots, she comes to hover in her own doorway, abandoning what looks like another stack of tabloids behind her at the desk. One clutched in her hands.

Sokka is too tired for this right now.

“Your best friend is in _Varricks.”_ she says, waving the magazine at him. “Page 12,” He grabs it off her with an ungrateful huff.

“Goodnight, Katara,” he says, without much affection because maybe he is twenty-one, but he can still act like a sulky older brother who’s frankly had enough sometimes. Then he retreats into his room and collapses immediately onto his bed. 

He wants to nap, but the caffeine that’s been buzzing through his veins since before the class is keeping his eyes open. Rolling over, he flips open the magazine Katara had given him. Skimming through it to see if there’s maybe some dreadfully boring gossip about some socialite he doesn’t care about to send him to sleep. 

Instead, it falls open on page 12, and suddenly Sokka is very awake. 

**_THE GIRLS OF BA SING SE: WHO IS PRINCE ZUKO’S MYSTERY DATE?_ **

_Fuck._

The accompanying photos are slightly out of focus shots of Zuko and a girl. At dinner, on a walk, and the final one. The final photo, the one that seems to lance something vulnerable in Sokka’s heart, is of Zuko pressing his lips to hers in a lantern-lit courtyard. 

The short article explains a little; she’s an Earth Kingdom dancer called Jin, it’s assumed they met at the royal wedding, but this doesn’t explain _anything_ of value to Sokka. He’s exhausted, and annoyed, and now every inch of his ire is focused on the image of Zuko kissing someone that’s not him. 

Zuko is kissing someone that isn’t him, and for some reason, he feels like his heart is about to shatter. A handful of weeks ago, those lips were on his and now after giving Sokka nothing but _silence,_ and not one ounce of an explanation, he goes out with someone else and _puts it in the press?_ It may be a very public paper with contributing paparazzi shots, but if Zuko didn’t want it in there, Sokka’s pretty damn sure Mai would have stopped it being in there. 

After the months of texting, and the phone calls, and becoming _friends -_ damn Katara too for being right about that - and making Sokka question just about everything, he doesn’t want to believe that Zuko is capable of this. But the hurt that is swelling inexorably in Sokka’s chest is coming from somewhere, and he knows that somewhere is the photo in the magazine, and everything it signifies. 

With a groan, he tosses the magazine onto the floor before rolling onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. Blood is rushing in his ears, pounding with the hurt, and he tries to take a deep breath. 

Inhale.

Exhale. 

Don’t think about why it hurts. 

Do think about what it means. 

Because Sokka’s not an idiot. Well, he is, but not this much of an idiot. Because he knows Zuko was his friend. He’s angry about the kiss, and then Zuko going out with someone else and putting it in the world’s most notorious gossip rag, but he knows it doesn’t really make sense. Zuko, even aloof, kind of an asshole Zuko who forms the Before in Sokka’s memory, wouldn’t be this much of a jerk. Zuko who forms the After, who unravelled himself over texts and phone calls and bad attempts at cooking wouldn’t do this to him, because that Zuko cares about him.

Yet, it sticks in his mind that it’s a fact about Zuko that he is always on dates with different girls. 

_“Photographed dates.”_ Yue had pointed out, the other day. Yue, as always, was about five steps ahead of Sokka. 

There’s the same rush of understanding that always happens when something finally clicks in Sokka’s brain. The pieces all sliding together like they should have sooner if he’d just thought about it, instead of being sidelined by something he’s just about able to recognise as jealousy. The answer spells out clearly; Zuko is a prince. Zuko is interested in men. Zuko kissed him and maybe it meant something. Zuko wants to cover his ass. 

Sokka’s anger deflates just a little. Because he gets it now, and it’s _shit._

He could go to Katara. She’s just across the hall and even if she’s going to be absolutely mortifying about this, she’ll help him. Or, he thinks as he pulls his phone from his pocket and holds it above his face, he could phone Yue. Pick her brain for a bit on this very singular reaction to seeing his male frenemy kissing someone else in a magazine, and see if she can’t kick him the rest of the way to an epiphany. Even Suki, or Bato, or Piandao - even his dad, might have some fun insights that could help him finally finish this fucking puzzle. 

He kissed the Fire Nation Prince. 

He kissed _Zuko._

He liked it. 

Sokka’s thumb hovers over the contact list on his phone, and realises it’s time to go back to the source. To the only other boy who he kissed. Who kissed him. Who has even an inkling of what’s going on in Sokka’s head when he kisses a boy and likes it.

"Jet, hi!" Sokka tries hard to keep his voice even when the call connects, because he knows this is a really dumb phone call. The kind that would make Suki insist on an NDA. But Sokka won't do that, and Jet would never go for it anyway. But he knows Jet probably won't sell his story to the press either, considering his frequent complaints about how the press is always in someone's pocket.

Sokka hopes Jet hasn't changed too much in the last year or so.

“It’s, uh, it’s Sokka?”

“I figured.” Jet’s response is utterly humorless. Never a particularly good sign. 

Sokka supposes it’s fair, considering that he was kind of an asshole last time they spoke. But Jet had been an asshole too.

“Right,” Sokka presses valiantly on, “How have you been?”

There’s a weighted sigh on the end of the line. The clatter of something being put down before Jet speaks again. “What do you want, Sokka?”

So yeah, Jet hasn’t exactly changed in the past year, which is good, but not necessarily good for Sokka right now, who had maybe hoped Jet wasn’t still mad at him.

“I guess I deserved that,” he murmurs under his breath, “Listen, you know that summer…?”

He doesn’t have to elaborate which one. It’s the only summer between them that was particularly distinct. And it sowed the seeds for the distance that exists between them now. 

“Vividly.” His voice is still as dry as the Si Wong. 

Sokka blurts out his question, because that’s how he does these things best. “Did we have a thing?” 

“Spirits, Sokka, _really?_ ”

Yeah, maybe that wasn’t the best way to go about this with Jet, of all people. 

“I just meant…” he trails off, pulling at his bottom lip with his teeth, “Did it mean something? When we messed around.”

There’s a heavy pause on the end

“I can’t answer that for you.”

“No. Right. Of course not.”

Sokka would love it if he could find someone who could. But he thinks he’s asked the question enough times that if he really tries, he can find the answer for himself.

“Listen, Sokka, I’m sorry about your belated sexual crisis,” Jet doesn’t sound particularly sorry, and Sokka can practically hear the eye roll. “I don’t know if making out with your sister’s ex when you’re sixteen makes you interested in men, or whatever, but _I_ am. And to be quite honest, I’d like to get back to the dinner I’m enjoying with my boyfriend.” 

“Right,” Sokka winces, “Yeah, okay. Thanks.”

“S’that all?”

There’s something in the drawl of Jet’s voice, and he’s viscerally reminded of being a teenager. With another boy who wanted to change the world, who looked at him in a tiny room in a republic city apartment with so many sly smiles. Then he thinks of the silence that exists between them now. 

“Listen, Jet, before you go. I want to say, I’m sorry?”

There’s a light scoff on the other end of the line, before it goes dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed Sokka's Bisexual Awakening. 
> 
> Also a renga, to my understanding, is a fairly long style of collaborative Japanese poetry that's kind of like an extended version of a haiku. I figure, if they have Haiku in ATLAverse, they can probably have renga too.
> 
> Also for those of you who hadn't seen it, there's a [Zuko POV of the end of the last chapter!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27095632)


	6. International Flirtations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me? Updating my fic? Based on an american election? A week after the cheeto gets kicked out of office? Groundbreaking! 
> 
> Also, I’m not saying there’s a part of this chapter where you should start listening to Dress by Taylor Swift but also there Absolutely Is.
> 
> Also also: this fic is rated M for a reason. That reason being things are about to get Steamy. Very. A lot. Spoilers but, **there is Sexual Content in this chapter...** Enjoy!

The thing about being a public figure is that it’s a little bit impossible to avoid other public figures altogether. Particularly when you’ve both signed an agreement that means you have to do at least one more public function together, so your respective nations don’t think you’re mortal enemies. 

The Tribes’ Dinner with the Fire Nation ministers rolls around as it was always inevitably going to. Pulling Sokka and Zuko back together like magnets. 

He’s been hoping, perhaps a little foolishly, that maybe Zuko would cave on the whole radio silence thing before it got to this. To Sokka standing at the top of the palace steps in his most formal clothes, smiling blankly at ministers and celebrities as the flash of official photographers captures every greeting. 

There’s still a nervous churning in the pit of his belly. 

Yue is beside him, chatting amicably with Katara between greetings and constantly shooting him knowing looks. He sort of wishes she wouldn’t because Katara finding out during the middle of a very public dinner is quite honestly the last thing she wants. And as soon as Katara knows, she won’t let it go.

Zuko’s a prince, so he doesn’t have to be the first to arrive. But when he does, it’s enough to still every single fluttermoth in Sokka’s stomach. 

Just for a second, the sight of Zuko in his deep red - why’s it always _red?_ \- silk, Fire Nation style formal dress, closer to what he wore to the wedding than New Year’s, is enough to stop his breath.

He manages to keep his face blank as he reaches the foot of the stairs, but as he looks up, eyes meeting Sokka’s, it flickers. His eyes dart back around, nervously, perhaps in search of the nearest exit. There’s nothing he can do with the camera’s around though. 

Ty Lee leans forward from her spot behind him, whispering something in his ear, and he takes what must be a fortifying breath and starts forwards again. Trudging up the steps, pausing in front of Yue, Katara and finally -

“Sokka,” he sounds so nervous but, _spirits,_ if the sound of his name on Zuko’s lips hasn’t somehow got a million times hotter in the month of absence. Sokka is almost embarrassed by how much he had missed the sound of that voice. 

“Zuko.”

Before either can say anything else, Osha appears - by the same sudden magic that they always pull off - at his elbow. 

“Don’t look so frosty,” they hiss, but their face looks perfectly neutral and it’s kind of scary, “photographers. Come on.” 

They turn Sokka, positioning him next to Zuko and a group of photographers start flashing away with renewed vigor when they disappear. Both boys smile, awkwardly and unsure, and Sokka can feel an embarrassed heat rolling of Zuko in waves. 

“We need to talk,” Sokka says, moving his lips as little as possible. 

“Do we?” Zuko says, doing the same. 

Sokka fights to stop his face looking outraged. As if there’s any question whatsoever of the fact that they need to talk. He resists a retort though because, as if they can sense another international incident in the making, Osha shows up again. Ushering him back towards Katara and Yue so they can get the three of them inside as Zuko is guided to another photo op. 

Even the food, as good as it is when the kitchens go all out like they do for events like this, is not enough to distract Sokka. Zuko is here, looking every inch the half-prince, half-mover star he is. Acting like they don’t need to talk, and like he didn’t stick his tongue down Sokka’s throat a month ago. Doing a marvellous job of it apart from when he catches Sokka’s eye and flushes.

Sokka pokes the food around on his plate. The second helpings he’d gone for surprisingly unappetising under the threat of the night ending, and Zuko ghosting him for another month. He _can’t_.

Sokka won’t let him. 

He needs a plan. Just like he always does. He needs a plan, and it’s already half-formed by the time he’s leaning over to Yue, flicking through her phone in the corner rather than chatting with Katara like she has been all night. The dinner is winding down. He can do this. 

“Yue,” he says, “I need to talk to Zuko, do you think you can convince him to leave his table?”

“Oh _absolutely,”_ she grins, “This better be more thought out than your usual attempts at flirting. It’s so high school asking me to go get him.” 

“I’m not- It’s- Just, please, Yue,” he says and lingers in his seat for a moment when she giggles at him, before practically bouncing across the dining room.

Sokka’s eyes dart around for Part Two of his plan. 

“Suki,” Sokka taps her arm, approaching from behind her which is probably why she jumps, hand reaching for where he knows she keeps a weapon. “I need your help.”

“What is it? Are you in trouble?” she says immediately.

“No, _no,_ I, uh-,” Sokka rubs the back of his neck, and feels an uncomfortable line of sweat there beneath his collar. “Can you help me get Prince Zuko alone?”

Suki’s hand drops completely as she blinks at him. “...Why?”

“I need to talk to him. Privately.”

“If you want to speak to him outside, we can do that, but I’d have to clear it with Ty Lee first.” 

“No,” Sokka sighs, because Suki doesn’t get it. If he wants to do this, she’s going to have to know why he needs Zuko alone. Then they’re going to have to have a long talk about proper international relations and why she _absolutely cannot tell his dad about this yet._

He throws a glance over to the other side of the room, where Yue is talking to Zuko who’s nodding awkwardly. A constipated expression on his face, like he knows something is up but he hasn’t worked out exactly what. 

Sokka meets Suki’s confused gaze with a sure, significant expression. “I need him _alone.”_

Her eyes go wide, and it takes her a second to school her face back into its on-the-clock professionalism. “The best I can do is the Hall of Avatars. Any further and I’m not allowing it. And we are _talking_ about this later.”

“Yes, fine,” Sokka concedes, because he knew that’d be the case. He glances over at the door to the Hall of Avatars. Little more than a long corridor full of stuffy old art that no one really has a reason to go until well after dinner is over. “How long can I have?”

Suki throws a calculating look at Ty Lee, mingling on the other side of the room distracted, and Osha, hovering by the double doors with hawkeagle eyes on absolutely everything. “Five minutes.”

“Thank you, Suki.” 

He squeezes her arm in another silent show of thanks, before turning on his heel as she goes to distract Osha. 

Casting a glance round for Yue again, he lets out an even breath when he spots her, and Zuko, away from his table with all the ministers and heading towards the desserts. Just the other side of the door to the Hall of Avatars. It’s coming together. Now all he needs is Part Three. 

Talk to Zuko. 

“Hi,” he says, planting himself between Zuko and a tray of citrus smelling sweet-buns. He throws a fake apologetic look at Yue, who by now is barely concealing a grin. “Sorry to interrupt. International-relations-business stuff calls, you know how it is.” 

Yue lets Sokka pull Zuko easily from her light grip on his arm. He gives her a forlorn look, before scowling at Sokka.

“What are you _doing?”_

“Quiet, jerkbender,” Sokka says, leading him by the elbow back towards the door where Suki is hovering, hand on the knob and looking nervous.

“I swear, if this is more of your petty, masculine whatever-”

“It’s not like that, Suki, I promise.” 

“... Alright.”

Sokka hadn’t actually thought much about this part of the plan. About what he was going to do when he got Zuko by himself. He can’t exactly yell at him, with the other room full of dignitaries and press photographers and his _Dad._

When he looks up at Zuko his expression is, remarkably, somewhere between a rabbaroo caught in the headlights and incredibly offended. The soft pull of his lips into an indignant frown brings everything from the last month seemingly crashing down around Sokka. The balcony. The kiss. The photographs. 

He kissed Zuko. 

_Zuko kissed him._

He liked it. 

He wanted to kiss Zuko again. 

He is _going_ to kiss Zuko again. 

“Sokka, what-,” Zuko starts to demand, but Sokka cuts him off by turning his grip around the hold he has on Zuko’s elbow. Using it to push him against the wall, or more accurately the narrow accent table beneath the painting of Avatar Roku. 

It’s a role reversal of the last time. Sokka leans in, nerves buzzing with the sheer proximity of Zuko. He looks up at him through lashes, and releases the elbow to reach up and brush a reverent thumb over Zuko’s right cheek. Zuko’s eyes, Sokka can see the gold in them this close up, flicker to his lips and that’s all he needs.

He throws caution to the winds and presses their lips together. Zuko’s mouth falls open in a surprised exhale, and just as Sokka starts to think _abort. Oh shit. Mistake…_ Zuko kisses back. Zuko kisses back with the same abandon and desperation he had on the balcony. The kiss that Sokka hasn’t stopped thinking about for a month but somehow this is better. Somehow, when Zuko swipes a tongue into his mouth, and his hand wraps around the fabric at Sokka’s waist, it’s mesmerising all over again.

“Sokka,” Zuko gasps, pulling away briefly, “wait.”

 _Fuck._ Has Sokka miscalculated? He didn’t think- Zuko was _kissing_ him back?

“No, I just…” Sokka’s confusion must have read plain across his face, from the pitying falter in Zuko’s voice. “I don’t want you to do anything you’d regret.”

Will he regret this? Fuck, maybe. But does he care right now? With Zuko looking like that. Cheeks flushed, lip bitten, and pressed against him? Of course not. 

He shakes his head with a scoff, then kisses Zuko again, and Zuko doesn’t mind. 

“You have the _audacity,”_ Sokka murmurs against his lips, hands sliding down to Zuko’s hips, “To walk into my house looking like _this._ After you ghosted me for a fucking month. No, I’m _not_ gonna _regret this._ ” His fingers dig in as his lips slide along Zuko’s jaw, pressing kisses all the way, landing on the spot just above the high collar of his Fire Nation style dress shirt. Zuko lets out a sound that sounds dangerously close to a moan. “Spirits, you’re hot.”

“Well,” Zuko’s voice sounds like it’s hiding a smirk, “I _am_ a firebender.”

Sokka groans in frustration. Partly because Zuko thought of the joke before him. Partly because he said it while they were making out. 

“I didn’t mean- Oh, forget it,” he says, pushing Zuko up and back onto the accent table, so he can step between his legs and dig his fingertips into Zuko’s thighs and continue to press his lips to Zuko’s throat. Sokka’s adrift at sea on a burning ship and somehow, Zuko has become his shore. He’s drifting between anger at the past month, the past months, the past five years, and this. The past _months._ New Year’s. Being so fucking turned on by the soft gasp Zuko releases as he drops his head back when Sokka kisses a bit harder than he means to. 

The painting rattles.

Then Zuko’s hands, warm and smooth, are yanking his face back up into a searing kiss. Tugging Sokka’s lip between his teeth as he hooks a knee round his thigh to pull him in. Whatever is always bubbling beneath Zuko’s surface is bubbling over with how freely he is _wanting_ Sokka. Sokka presses closer, hips rolling slightly, and Zuko gasps into his mouth.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he sounds so utterly wrecked, eyes flashing and satisfaction pools in Sokka’s stomach. He _did_ that. He leans in to do it again. To keep living in this moment, as if he could capture it in a snowglobe, and stay here, kissing Zuko forever. But he can’t.

There’s a sharp rap at the door, and Suki’s low voice calling their time. 

“ _Shit,”_ Sokka mutters, stumbling back a step, enough to let Zuko slide off the table. He takes in the sight of him properly now. Red silk all rumpled, and a few strands of hair loose from the neatly secured top knot. Zuko smooths a hand over the flyaways. They can’t go back out into the crowded dining room, growing nosier by the second as dinner finishes and the night starts to wind down. To mingling and after dinner drinks. The things that will bring guests _in here._

“ _Agni_ , Sokka,” Zuko growls, straightening out his clothes. He doesn’t sound really annoyed. Winded yes, and flushing bright red, but not genuinely annoyed. “You really had to pick this as your moment?” 

Sokka tries to still his hands, already fidgeting with them. He lets out a scoff as he tries to steady his breath, as if it will help with the flush of his cheeks. 

“Like you picked your moment any better,” he retorts. Zuko rolls his eyes, and heads back towards the door, but Sokka reaches forward to grab his wrist. “Wait!”

Zuko stills, and they’re a hairsbreadth from each other again. Spirits, they’re going to have to be much further apart when they go back into the other room, or Sokka’s going to make an absolute fool of himself. 

“Meet me. Later. The second bedroom on the left, in the North wing of the residence,” Sokka says, looking up earnestly at Zuko. The promise of what a rendezvous in his bedroom means shining in his eyes. The bob of Zuko’s throat as he swallows, the way he bites his lip is all drawing him in again but he _can’t,_ he has to let him go. “And never ghost me again, or I swear on Tui and La, I’ll come to the Fire Nation and turn you into a ghost myself.” 

Later comes both slowly and incredibly too fast. Sokka calling it a night earlier than he usually would does not help, but it gives him time to sort out his chaotic bedroom. He might not know much about hooking up with guys, let alone princes, but he knows enough about Zuko that he can work out he’d probably appreciate a tidy bedroom. 

He’s got the lamps on, but dimmed, and shoved all of the messy campaign notes and folders into something resembling order on his desk. The spider web chart on his wall is staying up, because Zuko already knows it exists. He sent photos to Zuko of the little Zhao drawing. He straightened his bedspread, for once, but it’s still getting rumpled when Sokka goes from anxiously pacing to sitting on the bed, then getting up again, only to have to turn and brush out the rumples. 

His inexperience with guys, and princes, is something he’s trying to push to the back of his brain. Overthinking things, in the past, has been his biggest enemy. Yue likes to point it out whenever, but she also tried to reassure him as he left for “bed” that he could be smooth. He wants to be smooth. 

More than anything, he wants to do _this._

Sokka checks his watch. How punctual is Zuko? He’s inclined to think very, but it’s not like Sokka gave him a specific time. He was trying to be casual. He’s even wearing his hair down. He’s trying not to hope too much as he moves from the bed to the sofa in his bedroom again. Shoving a throw pillow to the floor so he won’t pull all the fluff out of it in his nerves.

He sits heavily, fingers curling round the edge of his seat. He doesn’t want to overthink that he invited his prince - not his prince, _the prince,_ who just happens to maybe be one of his best friends, somehow - to his bedroom. It’s casual. He doesn’t even _like_ Zuko like that. Not really. He just does like guys, apparently. 

A hookup. No different from any other he’s had. That’s all this is. 

Right?

There’s a soft knock at the door and Sokka bolts to his feet, before trying to steady himself. _Casual. Cool. Smooth._

It’s just Zuko. Zuko who can’t cook. Zuko who relies on Mai’s fashion choices. Zuko who is an absolute dork about tea, and poetry, and a million other boring things. Zuko who laughed at his caricature drawings, and smiles like he’s swallowed the sun, but so, so very rarely. That’s who’s outside his door when he pulls it open.

“You, erm, weren’t exactly specific on later.” he says by way of greeting. He sounds sheepish, and there’s an air of nervousness about him, but he’s smiling. 

“Yep. Realised that about ten seconds after we got back into the dining room. Figured you’d just get here eventually,” Sokka laughs, and it doesn’t sound like there’s a nervous pit in his stomach. “Did you find the room okay?”

“There was a very helpful Kyoshi Guard,” Zuko says. “The one you brought to Caldera… Suki?”

Yeah, Sokka’s definitely having a difficult conversation at some point tomorrow. Pushing that down, because honestly Suki helping him with this is kind of sweet, he grins. 

“Well,” Sokka throws his arm open in a wide gesture, as if it will make them any less awkward or nervous to be inside his room, “Come on in.” 

The fluttermoths are buzzing in his stomach again. Zuko came. Zuko’s here. Zuko’s shirt is three buttons less done up than it was three hours ago and his hair’s not up in that tight top knot, just pulled back in a bun with messy strands framing his face. 

Sokka’s breath hitches when Zuko’s hand wraps around his, pulling him into the room too as they let the door swing closed. He lets himself be led, guided to the middle of the room where Zuko pauses. Looking down at him with something like awe as he leans in, slowly, deliberately, savouring the fact that he gets to do it when he presses their lips together. 

Not to be outdone by Zuko’s soft kiss - which is somehow just as breathtaking as his hot and heavy one - Sokka plants his hands on the slight dip of Zuko’s waist. Pulling their bodies together again. Zuko melts into him, but he’s the one in charge this time. One thumb pressed against Sokka’s cheek as Zuko tilts his head up into the kiss. Long fingers wrapped around to the base of Sokka’s skull.

This is what he thinks kissing Zuko should always be. The sheer reverence of it, neat and soft and warm with just a tinge of want. They’re both so full of wanting. Five years worth of it, apparently. 

“You came,” Sokka murmurs, eyes still closed when Zuko pulls back, brushing their noses together.

“You asked me to.” 

“Right,” Sokka says, refusing to let the awkwardness seep between them. _Smooth._ He can be smooth. He can seduce the Prince of the Fire Nation because they’re friends, and he’s hot, and he’s kissing him. “ _Right.”_

Sokka releases the hand that’s still interlocked with Zuko’s, pushing him back towards the sofa from the centre of his chest. Something about the bed feels too final, but Sokka can do this one step at a time. He’s made out on sofas before. Zuko lets himself be guided, dropping like a weight when his knees hit the edge of the sofa. Sokka hovers above him for a moment. 

“I asked you here because you _ghosted_ me,” Sokka mutters, emboldened enough by his words to climb onto Zuko’s lap. His throat bobs and then he’s looking up at Sokka with those gold eyes. Sokka drops down to kiss his lips again, just briefly before he pulls back a hairsbreadth, their noses brushing. “Like a _jerk._ And then you went and _dated_ a girl.”

“I’m not _interested_ in girls,” Zuko is emphatic as he runs his hands down Sokka’s thighs. The motion only serves to prove his point, but it makes Sokka want to melt just a bit. “I was just… doing what I thought I had to?”

“You _had_ to date a girl?”

“I thought you hated me!” Zuko protests, and Sokka scoffs. His texts might have been a little angry at times, confusion and bewilderment easily misinterpreted as rage, but they knew each other better than for Zuko to think he hated him. “I wasn’t sure- I didn’t know if you were mad about the kiss, and I… panicked?”

“Why would I be mad about the kiss? I kissed you back!”

He leans in to kiss him again, proving his own point and sliding a hand to curl round the back of Zuko’s neck, resting the other gently against his shoulder. He can taste the plum wine they drank at dinner, and there's a faint jasmine scent of what he can only assume is Zuko’s shampoo when his fingers intertwine with the dark, soft strands at the base of his skull.

“I thought maybe you wanted me back until I saw you with Yue,” Zuko mutters, so quietly but so firmly when he breaks the kiss. Sokka pauses, pulling back up and looking down with wide eyes.

“Yue?”

“You kissed her, and I thought…” Zuko’s hand that moved from his thigh to his waist stills as he trails off. He looks up at Sokka. Sees the smirk tugging at his lips, probably, because he lets out a growl of frustration, and twists with surprising dexterity. Pulling Sokka round so he’s the one underneath Zuko. One of Zuko’s hands is still on his waist but the other is braced against the arm of the sofa behind Sokka. “I was _jealous,_ alright?” It looks like it pains him to admit it. “And waiting for you to make a move was exhausting, you really needed to-” 

Sokka leans up to cut him off with a kiss, then grins. 

“You were _jealous?”_ He can’t stop smiling. The absurdity of it all lifting Sokka so he feels like he’s floating. Zuko growls in frustration and shifts against Sokka, effectively wiping the grin of his face.

“Stop _gloating,_ Agni,” Zuko orders, and the ring of authority in his voice should not be as much of a turn on as it is. Sokka gladly acquiesces though, reaching up instead to pull Zuko’s face down into another hungry kiss. Not as soft as when he got here. Hard and hot and heavy, just like he was giving in the hall downstairs. 

Sokka pushes his hands into Zuko’s hair, flat palms turning into fists as he tugs it slightly, and Zuko’s hips jerk against his. The curse that slips out between them in response is lost against his lips as, behind Sokka, Zuko’s fingers curl into a white-knuckled fist. 

“You’re infuriating, you know that?” Zuko mumbles, pulling Sokka’s bottom lip between his again. If this is the punishment for being infuriating, Sokka thinks, he’s not going to stop pushing Zuko’s buttons any time soon. He rocks up against Zuko, and gets a delighted groan for his efforts. 

Pressing messy, open-mouthed kisses to Zuko’s jaw as he tilts his head back, Sokka shifts his hands between them. Tugging at the front of Zuko’s shirt. Tiny gold buttons confounding him in his haste. He wonders how mad Zuko would be if he yanked the shirt open. Buttons be damned. 

As if sensing his frustration - and impending doom for his own dress shirt - Zuko’s hands cover his. Undoing one more button before he reaches down to the hem to pull it over his head. Dropping it to the floor beside them. 

Sokka feels like he might melt when he gets to trace a reverent finger down the taught line of Zuko’s chest. It’s fine. This is fine. There’s a hot, shirtless, firebending prince in his bedroom and that’s _fine._

Sokka’s cool. He can handle this. 

He swallows thickly, eyes flickering up from Zuko’s chest to his face. Zuko is looking down at him in what might be wonder. As if he’s just as surprised as Sokka is that they’ve gotten this far. Had his intentions not been clear enough, when he dragged Zuko into the Hall of Avatars and kissed him? In every text pleading for some kind of answer from Zuko about the kiss? Why is Zuko surprised about this? Sokka’s been fairly obvious about his intentions.

“Do you want to move to the bed?” 

_Definitely obvious enough,_ Sokka thinks as he stares up at Zuko. He looks expectant, but nervous. The question lingering in his own eyes is an entirely different one as Sokka draws in a sharp intake of breath. _Are you going to stop this now that it’s real?_

Sokka starts to shake his head, but the words that come out of his mouth answer the verbal question instead. 

“Yes. Bed. Bed’s good. Bed’s great!”

It takes everything Sokka has not to drop his head into his hands, curl up in embarrassment, and simply die. This is what Yue meant when she said he couldn’t flirt. He’s really going to have to work on it. 

He gives Zuko a little shove, who stands up immediately, before he yanks off his own shirt. Abandoning it on the floor with Zuko’s. On his feet, he gives Zuko a more determined look. 

“Well, come on, _your highness,”_ he says, pointing to the bed he apparently believes is so great. 

“You’re a dick,” Zuko rolls his eyes but kicks off the slippers Sokka hadn’t even realised he was wearing, and follows him as he crawls onto his bed. 

Zuko kneels, unsure, at the foot of Sokka’s bed as he props himself up on the pillows. He might as well be a painting in this light. The soft, warm glow of the lamps either side of his bed - the ones he dimmed for _ambience_ \- are really doing the trick, but it’s Zuko’s body that does all the work. Muscles under taught skin, the soft line of his stomavh and the V of his hips tantalising in the way it dips beneath the waistband his pants. He’s beautiful and he’s _all the way over there._

“Will you please get over here?” Sokka huffs, impatience covering awe. 

Zuko’s blushing as he complies, “Are you always going to be this bossy in the bedroom?”

“I think you kind of like it.”

And just as Zuko’s body settles over him, grinning, a warm, steady weight, Sokka uses his leverage to flip them over again. Sliding a thigh between Zuko’s legs and bracketing him between his hands. His hair falls around his face in a loose curtain. Blinkers. Like the only thing that matters is Zuko, and every point where his body is touching Sokka’s

“Your hair…”

“What about it?”

“It’s down,” Zuko clarifies and Sokka grins. 

“Top marks for observation there, Zuko.” 

Zuko huffs, pouting up at him. “I _meant_ , it looks nice. Down. You look nice with your hair down.”

_Oh._

The compliment is so simple, but it sends a bubbling warmth through Sokka. Something soft and triumphant at the idea that Zuko thinks he looks nice with his hair down. He leans down to press his lips to Zuko’s, another all consuming kiss as he presses Zuko into the bed. 

He kisses away from his mouth, along the line of Zuko’s jaw again. Finding that spot on his neck, just below the ear that he kissed downstairs. Kisses it again and nips his teeth against it just to hear Zuko make _that_ noise once more. It’s foolish - as if this whole thing wasn’t already a little foolish - for the Chief’s Son and the Fire Prince can’t go leaving hickeys on each other. Sokka doesn’t care. The way Zuko sounds when he does it is everything. 

Zuko’s hands have wandered, sliding from Sokka’s waist down between them. Past the waistband of Sokka’s slack pants and it’s all a bit much before suddenly it’s not enough. Sokka opens his eyes to see Zuko’s brought the hand up to his mouth, watches as he doesn’t break eye contact but drags his tongue along it, then gets back to work.

Sokka’s absolutely going to die tonight, and it’s all the Fire Nation’s fault.

A satisfied mix of endearments and insults tumble from his mouth. Beneath him, Zuko is smiling. Self-satisfied and smug that he’s getting to show off his talents to Sokka. Sokka can’t resist the urge to not be outdone. 

It’s new territory for Sokka, but he’s done his research. Sokka’s read books. And most importantly, Sokka’s nothing if not a trier. 

“Sokka, you don’t have to…” Zuko says, heart-wrenchingly fond and reaching down to brush Sokka’s dark hair back, when Sokka shoots a nervous look up at him. 

“No, but I _want_ to,” Sokka reassures, “It’s just- I’ve never done this with a guy before? I don’t want you to think I’m awful?”

“I find it hard to believe you could be awful.” Zuko says, coming across as sincere rather than deadpan. Sokka grins broadly, trying to remember the first time Zuko had been that sincere with him. The balcony in Caldera, probably. Sleep clothes and cigarettes and 2 AM coffee. He’s once again lost in awe at the fact that this is happening at all. It’s a thrill to compare the two Zuko’s; the one from Caldera and the one in his bed, wanting him.

It can’t be an awful first attempt, if Zuko’s response is any kind of reliable measure. The fingers in his hair curling into a tight fist and tugging involuntarily. The profanities that Zuko usually utters so rarely are spewing from his lips like a prayer, and there's an upward arch of his hips as his head falls back. Zuko is coming apart because of him, because he found the right buttons to push, and it’s fascinating. 

“Any notes?” Sokka quips, as Zuko’s grip on his hair finally loosens when he pulls away, dragging a hand backwards across his mouth. Hands are pulling him up then, to meet him in a deep kiss. He can feel the way Zuko grins, before his tongue darts across Sokka’s lips, licking into his mouth hungrily. Sokka takes a deep breath when he finally breaks and pulls back. 

“None at present,” he says, then he’s rolling them over again. Pinning Sokka down into his mattress, and leaning down to kiss him. It’s sloppy and earnest and so very _good._ Sokka can’t fathom where Zuko learnt to do what he does next, when he returns the favour, but _fuck_ if he isn’t grateful. Zuko’s a prodigy at this, even if he claims he hasn’t been a prodigy at anything in his life. Sokka isn’t particularly aware of what sounds he’s making, but the word “sunshine” registers, and it seems to fit. 

Zuko is the sun, and Sokka’s ready to burn.

Everything is hazy as Sokka finally lets his head drop back onto soft blue pillows, hair splayed about him. He feels warm and it has both nothing and everything to do with the firebender who’s just crawled back up beside him and nuzzled his face into Sokka’s shoulder. There’s a soft, warm press of lips against his skin, and Sokka lets out a content hum.

“So,” he says, when he’s finally got his breath back, “I like guys. And girls. And like... I don’t know, just everyone, I guess? But it’s the guys bit, that’s relevant to you.”

“Concise as always, Sokka.”

Sokka elbows him gently in the side. No real feeling in it, just a breathless laugh. 

“Fuck you.” 

Zuko is tracing warm, lazy fingertips in circling patterns around Sokka’s midriff. Breathing deeply and steadily, to the point it’s almost lulling Sokka to an easy sleep. He’s still marvelling at the entire evening. The bridges he built and crossed and burned all at once are too much to comprehend but he’s still fucking delighted. He feels so light, but he’s focusing on the sure touch of Zuko’s fingers to assure himself it’s real. 

“I like guys,” Zuko says, finally, into the silence. Sokka cracks an eyelid open to watch as Zuko’s eyes flicker over his body. Sigh softly. “Just guys. Just- yeah.” 

He breathes deeply again, and rolls onto his back. Sokka wants to follow him, but he lingers, turning instead on his pillow. The muscle in Zuko’s jaw clicks. Clamping down on whatever thought he didn’t say, and containing perhaps a hundred more.

“I can hear you overthinking.” Sokka says.

“I’m not-,” 

“Zuko, trust me. I’m a pro at overthinking,” Sokka laughs, rolling back onto his back to stare at the canopy. He’s surprised he’s _not_ overthinking himself. But he literally doesn’t have the energy. All the anxieties he was hanging onto before dinner have been worked out of him by talented fingers and heady kisses. Now, in the dim lamplight of his room, it seems simple. 

“This was just… fun, alright?” he says, “I mean, I had fun.” 

“Yeah, me too.” Zuko’s voice goes deep as he says it. A twinge of something Sokka’s not sure he recognises vanishing as those eyes drag longingly over him again. 

“Right,” Sokka grins, trying to fight the flush that creeps back over his cheeks. He tilts his head to glance sideways. “So… we should just- keep being friends, or whatever? But now we can do this as well.” He leans forward and catches Zuko’s lips in a demonstrably deep kiss. Zuko lets out a soft sigh as the kiss breaks. Turning his head to go back to gazing at the canopy over Sokka’s bed. 

“Right.” 

They slide back into silence as Sokka down settles against Zuko’s chest. He’s still smiling. He doesn’t think he’ll be able to stop. There’s something about the afterglow, the realisation that yes, their lives are messy but this was so _easy._ The way they fit together. They can absolutely have everything they want, just for a little while. 

“I should go back to my room,” Zuko says, eventually, and Sokka frowns, even if he knows it’s the case. Zuko sounds like it’s the absolute last thing he wants to do, too. Casual hook-up or not, he just looks so fucking comfy. Sated as he reclines against Sokka’s pillows. 

Sokka isn’t sure he wants Zuko to leave either, but the threat of Suki and Osha and Ty Lee bursting in here in search of him is not worth risking. 

He rolls over, and presses a kiss to the corner of Zuko’s mouth, which is pulled down into a thoughtful frown. 

“You should,” he concedes finally, “But you should… we can do this again? Sometime? Next time we’re in the same place? If you want?”

Zuko turns his head, eyebrow raising at Sokka. Half-surprised and Half- _Of-Course-we-can-do this-again._ He blinks, and then a small, soft smile turns up both corners of his mouth. 

“Yeah,” he nods, “Yeah we should.”

Zuko has something of a time finding all of his clothes. Abandoned in a trail across the room between the sofa and bed. He convinces himself, as he watches Zuko shrug the button down back on and do it up just enough so he’s decent, that it’s for the best. It’s better for the both of them, the more casual this is and clearly leaving is what Zuko wants. 

They’re not boyfriends just because they had one night of glorious sexual awakening for Sokka. He’s not expecting to cuddle all night then elope into the sunset with a fairytale prince. It’s not his style. Even if it _was,_ it’s just not possible. 

Sokka pulls on his robe to follow him to the door, ducking his head outside to check there’s no one in the corridor, and that Katara’s door is firmly shut. The last thing he needs is her catching him and judging him. 

Back inside his room, Zuko hovers awkwardly. One arm crossed over his chest. He’s looking down at his feet, back inside their warm, black fur-lined slippers. 

“You know, I’ve heard the _honorable_ thing to do after a hook-up would be to kiss me goodnight before you leave?”

The tease pulls a laugh from Zuko. And then he’s smiling. The awkwardness draining away to leave Zuko behind. The ridiculous, neurotic, caffeine-addicted insomniac who can’t cook and tortures Sokka with his attempts anyway. That’s who steps forward, kisses Sokka softly, then vanishes out the door and down the hall. 

Suki practically drags him into the private kitchen in his and Katara’s half of the residence approximately two hours after the Fire Nation delegation leaves the palace.

It doesn’t help that Zhao’s been all but confirmed as the choice for the domestic Fire Nation seat in Republic City. Up North, Pakku has been riding the tails of that Fire Nation move to push for his Chieftain nomination. As if his leadership would be the strongest against an aggressively nationalist Fire Nation. As if Sokka’s Dad isn’t strong enough. 

It’s another part of why sleeping with the Fire Nation Prince is, by all accounts, not one of Sokka’s best ideas. Because if it gets out, Sokka might have his first political sex scandal, and he’d always sort of hoped to avoid one of those. 

It’s kind of dumb, and Suki decides to call him on this, whilst making the most aggressive pot of tea he’s ever seen.

“Tell me you’re not being this _stupid,_ Sokka!” Suki groans, dropping her face into her hands as she sets the teapot between them with a clatter. It was the most exasperated she’d sounded with him in a while. Since the wedding at least. 

“It’s not _that_ stupid.” 

Even though it is a bit stupid, to be secretly sleeping with the Prince of the Fire Nation. But if Suki knows, how much trouble can they really get into?

Besides, it’s not like he’s actually an idiot. Sure, he does stupid things, but aside from a few choice occassions, Sokka’s never actually done anything stupid enough to jeopardise his own future, or his dad’s political career. He’s been in the top 5% of his class since he started university. He’s doing a campaign job and a degree at the same time. He’s just also a twenty one year old, having a bit of fun. With a foreign monarch.

“Are you going to tell your dad?”

“You’re not going to make me?”

“Sokka,” Suki looks a little hurt by his question, and he realises maybe he wasn’t being entirely fair to her. She wraps her hand over his on the table. “I’m not going to tell him if you don’t want me to. You’re my _friend._ And I get that it’s… probably difficult. I do think you _should_ tell him, but I know that you’ll do that when you’re ready.” 

He's surprised again by the faith in him. Reassured a little by the fact that he evidently does inspire some confidence in the fact that he'll do the right, smart, thing... eventually.

Sokka smiles gratefully at Suki, practically beaming, and she rolls her eyes. Chewing on her lip, she sets the tea she poured for herself down.

“Does he make you happy?”

Sokka frowns, because he doesn’t really know how to answer that. Questions like that seem to go hand in hand with _relationships_ and _boyfriends_ and words that are entirely too big for whatever it is he and Zuko are doing. Zuko slipped back to his own room, and the two of them can slip back into the texts and the phone calls, as if everything after the New Year had just been a blip in communication. 

They were just two guys, texting each other, liking each other, maybe occasionally sleeping with each other. It wasn’t more than that. Sokka doesn’t know if he wants it to be.

He does know he wants to see Zuko again. That it’s been barely a week and he already wants Zuko back under him as soon as possible. 

But aside from going a little bit mad with want and doing all but spelling it out in his texts, yeah, he supposes he is happy with whatever they’re doing. It’s enough for right now. 

“Yeah,” Sokka says softly, “Yeah, I’m happy with it- with him.”

“Okay,” she nods, placated from her concern. Whether that’s borne from his unwillingness to tell Hakoda yet or her concern for him as a friend. 

“But remember to let him know I have diplomatic immunity, and I know at least 15 ways to kill a man with an antique fan if he even thinks about hurting you.”

Sokka laughs, a loud guffaw as she sips her tea. Innocently as if she hasn’t just threatened the life of a foreign monarch.

“Thanks, Suki.”

“Osha, light of my life, my absolute delight!” 

Osha levels him with a flat look as he pulls up alongside them, phone clutched in his hand and the details Zuko has just sent him on his screen. Their eyes narrow at him, trying to work out what kind of trouble he’s about to cause.

“What do you need, Sokka?”

“How do you know I need anything?”

They raise a careful eyebrow. The kind they always use when telling him that his attempt to get anything past them is simply not going to work. He glances down at his phone again. A message from Zuko. **See you there ;)**

Yeah, he has to get his schedule clear for a trip to Republic City. 

Katara is understandably confused when he announces he’s going to watch Zuko take part in a _charity sword fighting match._

Osha was surprisingly in favour of the whole thing. Perhaps it’s Sokka taking the initiative for “international relations”, or Suki volunteering to help rearrange things so she can accompany him, but a fortnight later he rocks up to the Republic City Arena, entirely unsure what to expect but practically bouncing on his heels as he shows the attendant his _royal_ invitation. Sokka gets to go to the balconies, with the best view of the arena. He’s feeling more than a little smug, and the grin on his face is about more than just seeing Zuko again. 

Beside him, Suki keeps rolling her eyes.

“Spirits, will you calm down?” she mutters, “You’re pining like a spiritsdamned tree. You saw him two weeks ago. The sex can not have been _that_ good.”

“Shh!” Sokka shoots her a scandalised look. Glancing nervously around, but they’re quite literally in a private balcony just for them. 

“Just… sit still!”

Before he can shoot her another sharp retort, the lights in the stadium go down, spotlight on the main arena.

Zuko steps forward. His hair is tied back in a ponytail, swaying behind him as he twists and stretches. He shoots a disarming smile at the crowd before he slips a mask over his face and somewhere in the stands, there’s some suggestive whooping, and Sokka thinks _same,_ privately and wholeheartedly. The whole outfit, braces and padding and tight black cloth under burgundy leather, is disarming when combined with the fact that it’s _Zuko_. Zuko who's unsheathing dual dao, splitting them between his hands and twirling them expertly to a raucous cheer. 

Sokka has known, objectively, that Zuko plus swords was attractive. The image of Zuko in a tight black t-shirt against a sunset in the Royal Caldera courtyard plagued his mind more than he cared to admit, in the absence of Zuko. Yet that had absolutely _nothing_ on seeing Zuko actually fight. 

The thing that’s getting to him most, is that Zuko is clearly _good_ at this. Sokka doesn’t need to be a genius to work it out - he is one, but even if he wasn’t he could tell that the intuitive way Zuko flicks his wrist to block a blow, then twists it to deal his own is fucking _impressive._ Sokka’s always found impressive… _talented_ to be too damn sexy and it’s impossible for him to look away. 

His fingers are tight round the edge of his seat as he leans forward. He wants Zuko again, right fucking now. Wants those impressive, lithe, talented muscles under him and over him. But it’s the middle of a match and Sokka’s patience is wearing incredibly thin. The match becomes torturously slow. With breaks for rules that Sokka does not fully understand, but finally, the light on Zuko’s side flashes fully green. 

He’s won. 

He should probably be congratulated.

“I’m gonna-” Sokka starts, but cuts off with a cough when his voice comes out a pitch higher than he means it to. He tries again. “I’m gonna go find Zuko. Say hello.” 

“Oh, Sokka, I really _do not_ need to know.” 

“Plausible deniability. Right.” 

“Think we’re a bit past that actually, Sokka.” 

“Sorry?”

“Go,” she laughs shooing him out of the balcony as she pulls out her phone. 

Sokka enjoys a smug feeling everytime he flashes his VIP badge to an attendant on his way towards the backrooms of the arena. He’s trying not to sprint, or look too out of place, but his little power-walk betrays him as he careens around a corner, crashing into someone only to be caught by strong arms. Familiar arms.

“Sokka?”

“Zuko!”

His voice is all high-pitched again as he drinks Zuko in. Dark, tight uniform and the swords are strapped to his back and it’s like running into a vigilante prince. Like a scene out of _Among the Dragons._ It’s too much for Sokka’s brain, or maybe Sokka’s heart. He’s trying to form words but, miraculously, Zuko beats him to it. 

“I was going to change then come find you.”

“No don’t change, I-” Sokka blurts, before he can stop himself. He glances round, spots the press photographers, then looks back at Zuko. “Sorry, cameras. Do you think we could… talk somewhere private? And you could show me that... _thing?_ ”

Zuko’s face flickers to surprise, and Sokka shifts so the cameras can't catch a good shot of it. Spirits knows, a shot of Zuko looking like this will be worth a fortune. Sokka raises an eyebrow, and Zuko coughs. 

“Right now?”

“Zuko I caught an airship here. And in precisely two hours Suki will haul my ass from wherever she finds me to make sure I am on the return Airship to Harbour City.” 

Zuko blushes.

“Oh,” his eyes flicker over Sokka’s shoulder, catching the flash of a camera. His face filters to something neutral. The untouchable Fire Prince. Then he tugs at the strap of his swords across his chest, before turning on his heel, calling over his shoulder as he goes. “Follow me.”

They reach what Sokka wants to call an _armoury_ because he’s seen too many movers with dashing knights and princes. In actual fact it’s probably just an equipment room, but the frankly gobsmacking array of swords and daggers and knives on the far wall throws Sokka for a bit of a loop. 

He’s snuck into an armoury with a prince fully intent on ravishing him. Has his life become a mover recently, and he was just blissfully unaware?

Zuko wedges his dao, carefully back in their scabbard, through the door handles, locking them in and everyone else out as Sokka walks over to the wall with a very impressive collection of weapons. He pulls one off the wall, and his mind unhelpfully only supplies the word _broadsword._ Zuko surely knows the proper name. There's a lotus engraved in the pommel, and Sokka gives it a playful swing, before turning to Zuko.

“Hey, do you think you could show me how to use one of these?”

“What?” The question shakes Zuko out of something. He’d been staring. Sokka smirks.

“A _sword_.” 

He can’t resist the emphasis. The innuendo. Not while Zuko is still looking like that. Black and red and gold and _gorgeous._ The arms that Sokka had been trying not to think too hard about cross over Zuko’s chest. 

“From what I remember, you can handle a _sword_ surprisingly well… for a novice.” 

“Oh, novice, is it?” Sokka raises a challenging eyebrow, pointing the sword point at Zuko. “Well then, why don’t you come give me a lesson, _Sifu Zuko.”_

Zuko gives him a Look. Significant enough to make something in Sokka’s stomach drop as he stalks forwards. He eyes Sokka carefully, and he considers backing up to the bench. Instead, he stands his ground. Meeting Zuko’s gaze.

Zuko is reaching down and _oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck_ and his hand _oh fuck…_ Wraps around Sokka’s arm, hand still gripping the broadsword, and pulls it up straighter.. 

He gives Sokka a gentle tug, so they stand at an angle to each other as he lifts Sokka’s arm. Sokka is consumed by the beating of his own heart. Can Zuko hear it too, he wonders. His hand goes tense around the pommel of the sword, as soft fingers brush the back of it.

“Loosen your grip,” Zuko murmurs in his ear, and a shiver runs down Sokka’s spine. Zuko’s warm fingertips slide down the length of his arm, before encircling his wrist entirely. Sokka almost lets out a spirits-damned _whimper_ but he’s trying to have some dignity here. He tries instead to focus on Zuko’s instruction, not the warmth at his back, not the thudding in his chest, and _not_ the way Zuko’s low voice curls something in his stomach.

He loosens his grip a little on the sword handle, tilting it as Zuko directs before Zuko’s other hand is at his hip, shifting his body. It might be the ruse of a sword lesson, but it pulls Sokka flush against Zuko. 

“Then turn your body sideways like this.” He can feel the vibration of Zuko’s deep voice as it hums against him. “Then you just have to _thrust.”_

Sokka drops the sword. 

Twisting round in Zuko’s grip, breaking the hold on his wrist and his hip, he reaches up to grab both sides of his face and kiss him. It’s a delightfully unexpected turn on, that Zuko can flirt so effectively through innuendo. Dressed in his sword fighting outfit. Talking about _thrusting._

“You’re the absolute worst,” Sokka gasps between breathless kiss, “You fucking tease, I hate you.” 

But he’s already tugging at the sash belt Zuko has tied around his waist, undoing the fastenings of his pants, and Zuko sounds so sure when he laughs back. 

“Oh yeah, you’re doing a really good job of proving your point there, Sokka.” 

“Spirits will you please shut _up.”_

He doesn’t quite shut up, but Zuko doesn’t make any more sarcastic, deadpan comments either as Sokka drops to his knees and puts every good idea he’s had over the course of the past hour to good use. A gloved hand slides into his hair, both insistent and gentle, and Sokka glances upwards. Meets the dark wanting look Zuko is giving him as he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth. 

It’s quick and it’s messy but it’s _worth it_ when Zuko is gasping his name, fingers tightening against his scalp and making a mess of his hair. It’s worth it when Zuko hauls him up, deposits him on the bench, and pays him back in kind. 

When it’s done, Zuko drags a still leather gloved back of his hand across his mouth. Sokka sags against him, pressing their foreheads together as Zuko barely represses a smirk. 

“So,” he says, “Sword fighting?”

“I thought I told you to shut up?”

Zuko laughs, and Sokka pulls him into a deep, lingering kiss. They stay, wrapped up in each other, like they had the other night. For longer than either of them probably should, but no one tries the door, and Sokka doesn’t care enough to check for Suki’s text asking if he’s done. 

They slip out of the arena quietly, and he’ll be at the airship on time and that’s all that matters.

“I don’t suppose you have plans to be in Caldera soon?” Zuko says, as they hover a few feet away from where Suki and the Satomobile are waiting to take Sokka away and home again.

“That shithole?” he laughs with a wink. “Not if I can help it.” 

Zuko, who would have taken confused offence at the statement a few months ago, just chuckles fondly. He squeezes Sokka’s shoulder before letting his hand drop. 

“I’ll see you soon, Sokka.”

* * *

**Omashu?**

> Sokka <s-okka@swt45.com>
> 
> 5:27 PM
> 
> to Zuko

His Royal Highness Prince Zuko of Jerkbenders,

Are you going to the Omashu fund-raiser for the Foggy Swamp conservation project next week?

Sokka

First Son of The Best Tribe Ever

P.S. Thoughts on the new title? I think it really suits you. 

* * *

**Re: Omashu?**

> Zuko <zsozin@calderaemail.com>
> 
> 6:00 PM
> 
> to Sokka

Sokka, First son of... where, exactly?

Tragically, I am unable to go to Omashu as I already have a previous engagement with a delightful lady named Toph, and I’m scared she’ll hit me if I bail out of it.

You’ll have to find someone else to drag into a backroom to sate your appetite. 

Regards,

Prince Zuko

P.S I’ll be sure to inform the Fire Sages we’re officially changing the title during my next meeting with them. I’m sure Lu Ten won’t mind.

* * *

**Re: Omashu?**

> Sokka <s-okka@swt45.com>
> 
> 6:48 PM
> 
> to Zuko

Prince Jerkbender,

Noted. Will add “scared of 18-year-old girls” to my fact file on you. Right alongside my other most recent discovery: great with his tongue.

But also, you see Toph frequently, you see me never, so… Omashu?

And I seem to remember that my appetite wasn’t the only thing that got sated. Are you sure your “previous engagement” with Toph will be a) more fun and b) inescapable?

Sokka 

First Son of Innuendo, Persuasion and Charm x

* * *

**Re: Omashu?**

> Zuko <zsozin@calderaemail.com>
> 
> 7:00 PM
> 
> to Sokka

Bane of my Existence,

I’m ignoring the blatant attempt to flirt me into coming to Omashu. Please try harder. 

Sorry. I didn’t realise a few weeks apart equated to “never.” Will have to teach you about object permanence at some point so you don’t forget about me completely if we’re apart too long. 

I think you may be overstating how much I see Toph, but she also recently told me that I was old and that I “should get out and see the world while I’m still young” so I might just take her advice. Keep being nice to me and I might ask her if we can postpone our plans because there’s a Water Tribe Peasant demanding my time. 

Yours,

Prince Zuko of Eternal Suffering

* * *

**Re: Omashu?**

> Sokka <s-okka@swt45.com>
> 
> 7:23 PM
> 
> to Zuko

Prince Oldko,

Toph’s right. You are elderly. Please come see me before you perish. 

Also, at least I can flirt. Case in point: Come to Omashu because I’ve been thinking about your tongue, and your mouth, and I was hoping to see you because then I can put it to use. 

And unrelated, but I hear their mail system is pretty sweet?

Sokka

First Son of Successful International Flirtations

* * *

**Re: Omashu?**

> Zuko <zsozin@calderaemail.com>
> 
> 9:06 PM
> 
> to Sokka

Sokka,

See you in Omashu.

Yours,

Zuko 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’d like to thank everyone for being so patient on this chapter. There were a number of reasons it was delayed, from the M content to you know, all hell breaking loose for y’all across the pond and on the internet... 2020 be wild. I hope that you are all staying safe and looking after yourselves! (Another reason this took so long is because that whole american shenanigans had me looking at the more in-world politics chapters of this fic.)
> 
> Also thank you to [Rio](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rionaa), who is incredible and proof-read this chapter for me, I'm so very grateful! If you're ever in the market for Zukka podfics go listen to theirs because they are INCREDIBLE.


	7. The Thing About Little Sisters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko and Sokka’s casual hook-ups continue. Frequently. It’s just two guys being bros.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zuko opens up. Sokka graduates. Katara learns some things. The Ga(a)ng gets together. 
> 
> CWs for this chapter are mentions/discussion of depression and mental health issues, mentions/discussion of past child abuse (canon typical), discussion of death of a parent and grief, and alcohol consumption (and also more M rated sexual content.) I don't think I missed anything, but if I did, please tell me so I can add it.
> 
> Also this one is for those of you who are enjoying my political/historical worldbuilding! There’s a Fair Bit of that in this chapter!

When Zuko shows up in Omashu, and meets him on one of the city’s many bridges, Sokka considers sending Toph a bouquet. Zuko laughs as he lets Sokka pull him into a one armed hug, that could be friendly, even if it lasts a fraction of a second too long. After the conference - the official business that’s _so_ important to them both - they head out to a bar and get a bottle of rice wine to share between them and Sokka laughs at even the worst of Zuko’s jokes and Zuko indulges him as he explains the centuries old physics of the iconic Omashu Mail chutes. 

And after, if they stumble into the same room instead of separate ones, no one needs to know. No one needs to know how it feels when he makes good on his promise and lets Zuko take him apart with his tongue. It doesn’t matter that they curl around each other in the afterglow and fall asleep together, even if they’d promised themselves barely a month ago that they wouldn’t _do_ that. Sokka wakes up slowly the next morning, the golden aftertaste of the night before lingering in his mouth as Zuko kisses him in the sunrise.

It’s still casual. But now he knows Zuko murmurs nonsense words in his sleep and cuddles around him from behind and that they fit together like that as well. He knows that Zuko will light his cigarette with his thumb and watches him smoke it on their secluded balcony before they pull the covers around themselves to sleep. He knows Zuko looks just as beautiful in the morning when he wakes as he did when he went to sleep, but that his hair sticks up in funny directions because he didn’t tie it back. 

So they decide, consciously or not, to keep doing it. 

Not that the papers mind. Yue sends him a listicle counting down the top ten Zuko and Sokka moments from the last year. The semi-official shots from Caldera, the TV appearance, a candid from when they were chatting after the swordfighting match, where Sokka’s looking at Zuko like he’s the most astounding thing he’s ever seen. The author has helpfully captioned it “get you a man who looks at you the way Sokka looks at Prince Zuko!” 

And now there’s a photo from Omashu. Another thing added to the pile. It’s a little ridiculous, but it works, apparently. Acting like best friends and stealing moments left, right, and centre. 

Months start to pass, and it’s almost too easy. Two best friends finding excuse after excuse to see each other, it’s almost easy to forget that just over half a year ago, the tabloids were speculating on the great feud between the two of them. When, a week after Sokka’s birthday, they both find occasion to be in Republic City, meeting in the park, dinner at a restaurant that Zuko recommended, and Sokka leaning in to whisper absolutely filthy birthday requests in his ear when they’re just out of sight of the paparazzi cameras. 

Not that Sokka minds, when Zuko shows up at his hotel room, sparkling wine in hand after they’re _sure_ no one will be watching either of their doors - other than Suki, but she already knows, and Ty Lee, who apparently knew the whole time. He certainly doesn’t mind when Zuko makes good on all his birthday requests, and they make up for missing Zuko’s birthday in the time they weren’t talking, as well as celebrating Sokka’s. And in the morning, when there’s a birthday tray, full of sweet Water Tribe dishes that aren’t exactly breakfast food but it’s his _birthday,_ Zuko insists. So they eat together as they talk about everything and nothing, he tries his best not to marvel at how fucking perfect it’s all ending up. 

In the back of his mind, the thought that it’s supposed to be a _casual_ affair lingers. But then Zuko crushes a spoonful of akutaq against his mouth and asks what he’s staring at, he supposes it doesn’t _really_ matter. 

Let the world think he’s getting into _international relations_ or something. 

They wouldn’t technically be wrong.

The thing about being with Zuko, is that it’s as addictive as it is easy. He’s almost grateful when both school and the campaign pick up enough steam that clearing his schedule for a weekend of hedonistic debauchery with a foreign prince is actually too difficult.

They talk as much as they did before it all now. More, if anything. About everything. It’s not weird anymore, if he sends Zuko a picture of an outfit and asks for his opinion - not that Zuko’s the most fashionable person he knows. He once again reminds him that Mai chooses most of his public outfits. If he had his way, he’d be in linen slacks and button-downs all day. 

When he sends a photo of such an outfit on a boating trip with Aang, Sokka tries not to let it distract him.

Aang, as it turns out, also knew all along about Zuko’s long lasting, not-strictly-platonic feelings for Sokka. Toph too. Ever since he dragged the pair of them out of the Agna Qel’a palace at New Year's. More interestingly, he is - just as Sokka suspected - utterly infatuated with Katara, to the point where he apparently spent an entire boat journey to one of the outer islands rhapsodizing about her. 

**Kill me now.** A text from Zuko will read, **He wants to know if your sister likes jewellery. Personally I think 18 is a bit young to get married?**

He’s as glad as anything else to have Zuko’s wry, overdramatic comments back in his inbox. 

Sometimes, he’ll run his speeches by Zuko when he’s finished adding his thoughts to what his father’s aides give him, because Zuko is rarely not full of insights. Sokka knows he himself is a genius, but Zuko doesn’t even seem to grasp his own knowledge, or how beautiful Sokka thinks it is when he goes off on a tangent. He is able to send pages to Sokka in response to a question, all it takes is the right button to push. Everything he writes might as well be poetry, and he’s forced to remember Zuko is technically a Caldera University educated literature scholar. 

Pushing Zuko’s buttons is still as fun as it has always been, but now instead of getting a stormy temper and frustration that was actually hiding longing, Zuko reveals himself. 

Just as revealing is when he barely responds at all. He’ll retreat into himself and into his dark moods; his dry commentaries become more acidic in a way that would hurt Sokka if he didn’t get it. From what he understands of grief, it’s a reasonable response. Katara used to withdraw the same way. The hours or days of his short temper drag, and Zuko hates them, but it doesn’t stop Sokka understanding. All he can do is support Zuko through it, with a patience that Sokka's not really sure where comes from.

And when it all stops being too much, he is fully himself again. Bright as the sun and completely unaware of it.

“Sozin was a little bitch,” he declares to Sokka over the phone. Sokka, flicking through a heavy tome on Fire Nation Political History, chuckles. 

“I agree entirely, but please elaborate on that?”

“You mean aside from the bullshit laws that campaigners have spent the past 200 years getting the assembly to overrule?” The passion in his voice, the longing to get involved, is surprisingly evident. He wonders if it kills Zuko, that he cannot be open about this facet of himself, and engage with the politicised history of same-sex relationships in his country in the way he clearly wants to. 

It wasn’t until Sokka had identified this facet that he also started to really engage with the Water Tribe history. He knew a little, his knowledge of the Water Tribes’ history on the matter punctuating his own sexual awakening. His parents’ involvement in trying to update any leftover, outdated policy over the last twenty years underscoring it all. But they’ve never been explicitly against people like him, even if there remains a tinge of sexism to half the Northern legislation, and it’s an overwhelming relief.

He knows Zuko has it worse. Sokka can only imagine how much Zuko ached when just four years ago the Fire Nation Ministerial Assembly finally overturned in full a 203 year old law on same-sex marriages. And just as he always gets with a project, it consumes him entirely. He’s absorbed himself into reading through essays on international law. The differences from the Tribes, to the Earth Kingdom, to the Fire Nation to the shared ground of the United Republic of Nations. The discrepancies and the inequalities that he’d just love to dig into.

He almost emails Piandao to ask about it, but thinks better of it. 

Katara starts bringing him green tea in the office on the day she works, an attempt to break his coffee habit, and finds him leafing through a stack of papers on the history of same-sex relationships in the Four Nations. She gives him a curious look, when he brushes it off as nothing, just some policy ideas that he’s looking into. He recognises it as the look she gave him at New Year’s. And over breakfast, the morning after the Tribes’ Dinner. 

He’ll tell her after graduation, he thinks. When he can sit down and work out how to say it all properly. Just like how he'll tell his dad eventually, but certainly not before the campaign is over and Hakoda's re-elected. 

He doesn’t have time to worry about his dad not getting re-elected right now, on top of everything else.

Still, it’s nice to understand himself a little better. As much as he loves a mystery, having a firm handle on his identity is comforting. When he “bumps into” Zuko at a charity gala on Whale Tail island, and uses Zuko's silk sash to bind his hands behind his back after they've snuck up to the royal suite of the hotel together, he's grateful. 

He can't even bring himself to regret it the next day, when he shows up half an hour late to a meeting with Osha, in the same clothes from the night before. 

"Alright," they hiss, eyes narrowing with calculated precision, "who is she?"

"Who's who?" Sokka asks, feigning innocence.

"Sokka do I look like an idiot?"

“No! It’s just not- It’s really not a big deal.” He tries to put them off, but Osha, if anything, only looks more gobsmacked and offended. 

“Not a big- _Sokka!”_ they snap. “Do you know how close this election is? Have you not been reading the reports I send to your little office cubicle? Have you not paid attention in every single debrief for the past three months?”

“Osha-” 

“So if your little friend is _not a big deal,”_ they glare, “It better be because she’s already signed enough NDAs she’s practically taken a vow of silence.”

Sokka opens his mouth to say that technically _he_ signed the NDA, but that will only lead to more questions he does not want to answer. He’d rather let Osha think Suki’s dealt with it. That it’s some girl from university, or the office, or whatever who has promised not to sell his salacious secrets to a paper that will use them to turn public opinion around on him and his father. 

Katara narrows her eyes at him too, but when her gaze flashes up to Sokka's face, blue meeting blue, she purses her lips and says nothing.

An early summer snow buffets the Southern Water Tribe palace as Sokka paces, listening to Zuko try and explain the latest updates from _Love on Ember Island._ Despite his best efforts, Zuko has failed to get him invested in the latest season, but that has never once stopped him explaining the more dramatic episodes to Sokka. 

He throws himself down on the sofa in his bedroom, with the phone still pressed to his ear.

"- and then she leaves him for his best friend! Honestly, Sokka, it’s high drama.”

“It sounds like it,” Sokka says. 

“You’re laughing at me.” 

“I’m not!” he insists, but he’s chuckling while he does it, so it loses some of its honesty. 

It’s been weeks since they saw each other last, but he has a comforting image of his mind of Zuko curled up in red silky sheets with Druk the dragon-lizard, watching his overdramatized reality television.

“I just don’t understand why you love it so much,” he smiles, “But I’ll support you!”

“It’s just a good distraction, I think.” 

There’s a flicker on the other end of the line as Zuko’s breath catches before he lets out what sounds like a very heavy sigh. Sokka frowns. Eyebrows knitting together, as he swings his feet to the floor, sitting up and listening more intently. The silence between them lasts as Zuko doesn’t elaborate.

“You know you can talk to me, right buddy?”

“Buddy, really?” Zuko scoffs, “You’re still leading with that?”

“Well, what would you prefer?” Sokka challenges, “Baby? Darling? _Sunshin-”_

“Sokka,” Zuko says in warning, and Sokka thinks he is probably smiling again, but when he pictures it, it’s that tight, thin smile that’s hiding something. Some catastrophic hurt that he’ll struggle to make sense of.

“I just _mean,_ my turtleduck,” he ignores Zuko’s obligatory protest, “that if you want to tell me things, other than the _fascinating_ goings-on of _Love on Ember Island…_ you can. You know? Like how I tell you about school, and Katara, and the campaign… my parents. If you have something on your mind. Well, I’m just saying, I’m all ears.”

“Mmm,” Zuko hums, “I know. I just… haven’t always… It’s not easy to just open up about things.”

“Yeah, I get that,” Sokka nods, “I just want you to know that the option is there.”

There’s a beat. 

The sound of Zuko inhaling a steadying breath and then letting it go. 

“It’s… To be honest, the problem is that it’s a lot to explain. It’s my sister.”

Zuko’s never really been open, when it comes to his family. He mentions Azula plenty, as much as Sokka mentions Katara, but always a little superficially. Amd aside from the apparent disdain from his grandfather, and his Uncle’s attempts to pull him into afternoon tea, only to be called away on business, and Lu Ten being just as bad, he’s never complained in the way Sokka did after the Solstice Dinner. Sokka knows it’s complicated, knows that whatever his family situation is, that it’s at least partly responsible for the dark cloud that hangs over Zuko’s moods.

“You read the _Caldera Mirror_ , don’t you?”

“Read is a strong word for it… why?”

Zuko sighs heavily on the other end of the line. 

“There’s a piece about Azula. Some old… records leaked from when she was- It’s all quite nasty, the story they’ve gone with.” 

He sounds put upon, and it makes Sokka dreadfully curious about whatever he means by leaked records. He can’t call up as many memories about old tabloid stories of Azula as easily as he can about Zuko. There were some, about five years ago, he’s pretty sure. But the content of them eludes him.

"What happened?”

“It’s old news really. The _Mirror’s_ just looking to sell papers and cause trouble.” 

“Is she alright?”

“She doesn’t really care,” and Sokka can believe that. The Fire Princess always comes across as unflappable when he sees coverage of her. But Zuko sounds so sad when he keeps going. “It’s hardly the first time someone’s called her crazy. I think she’s more worried about where the leak came from.” 

Sokka trusts his Dad’s staff implicitly. People like Suki and Osha, who know his and his families deepest secrets; he can’t imagine not being able to trust them. He makes a noise of agreement before Zuko continues. 

“And then our grandfather is more interested in making it go away again. We can’t dignify it with a response, he says. Can’t have any imperfect heirs.”

The agonized weight in his voice staggers Sokka. He swallows thickly, unable to think of anything truly comforting to say, because what can he say to that?

“Tui, Zuko, I’m so sorry.” 

“It’s alright. You get used to it. This is just… part of our life.” 

Somehow, Sokka doesn’t think that makes it any better. The abusive fame that pervades the life of public figures. It’s hard to imagine either Zuko or Azula being fine with their history being dredged up out of the blue, even considering the little he knows of it. 

“I’m still sorry,” he says firmly, “Can I ask what even happened? You don’t have to tell me.”

Zuko lets out a gentle hum. Sokka is able to recognise it now, it’s not Zuko clamming up, it’s a tell that he’s about to do the opposite. That Sokka is about to learn something that means a lot to Zuko, but he’s got to work out how to say it first.

"Azula's always been a prodigy, see," Zuko sounds so tired, "I did dance, she was the star of recitals. I played the tsungi horn, she became the first chair in her youth orchestra. I can firebend, she lightening bends. Everything she did she was just… born lucky. I was lucky to be born."

"Zuko, that's not-,"

"It's just something my father used to say. I don't- I know it's not true."

Sokka wants to believe him, but there's an anguished edge to Zuko's voice. It hurts more than it should.

“Anyway, when Azula was 15 things were a bit… She was a bit…” he hesitates again. “We were actually never close, as children. Our father always pit us against each other. And mom… Well, she probably did favour me, to be honest. I know Azula once said mom thought she was a monster. I don’t know if that was true, but it’s what Azula _believed._ Then mom died, and my _father_ decided he’d been too easy on us both.”

Zuko lets out a bitter laugh, and Sokka can picture his face so clearly, the firm set of his jaw and the closed off shoulders he always gets when his dad is brought up.

“We never released an official statement, on what happened with- On the scar…”

“Zuko, you don’t have to…"

“It’s alright, Sokka,” Zuko says, exhaling roughly. “You remember that day in the elevator? I think I knew you worked it out then. I think I’m always worried about people working it out.”

“I would never have said anything. To anyone.”

“Yeah,” Zuko sighs, “I know. I just… hate people looking at me with pity. Wondering how I got it. Wondering what great, dishonorable thing I did to get it, because the truth is-” 

He cuts himself off, and there is nothing Sokka can say. No soft words of comfort can ever make up for whatever his father did to him. It raises a lump in his throat, trying to even imagine it. There is absolutely nothing. 

“I was sixteen, when he… And Azula, she just _laughed._ Now I get it, because she was scared too. My fath- _Ozai_ wanted me to learn a lesson through _suffering,"_ Zuko scoffs soft and bitter, and spirits, Sokka wishes he could reach across the ocean between them and grab his hand. “But he needed Azula to learn too. Needed her to stop getting _ideas_.”

“I think… It’s awful to say, but I think if I’d been sent to see a proper doctor or a healer then, I probably would have died. Not right away, perhaps, but eventually. I’d have suffocated under my- under _Ozai’s_ grip. But there was no healer sent for, and Azula realised that if I died from the- If I died, she’d be alone. I think that’s what set her off.”

It doesn’t bear thinking about. Sixteen year old Zuko, alone. All alone in Caldera with a little sister as scared as he is, and a father who… 

Sokka can picture Zuko’s face so clearly, scar and all. 

He feels a little sick.

“The rest kind of goes without saying. My Uncle got back from touring the outer islands about a week later, Azula was scared enough by that point that she went to Lu Ten. She didn’t- I don’t think she told Lu Ten she _was_ scared, she still won’t admit that much to _me_. But she told Lu Ten, and Lu Ten told my Uncle. And my father was banished. No one’s heard from him in years.”

“Then Azula…?” Sokka is still trying to connect the dots from how that, all of which is news to Sokka, connects to Azula’s suspected hospital stay. 

“Ozai and our mother were both just… _gone._ And we were both untethered. I was still seeing a water tribe healer, who had probably the tightest NDA and the biggest pay-off I’ve ever seen, and Azula was just… drifting. I don’t really remember much, to be honest. I know that she used to snap over the smallest things. I heard she set her rooms on fire once, bright blue flames just because of a slip up from one of the maids. My grandfather doesn’t- _didn’t_ care enough as long as she wasn’t a public spectacle.”

The pause sits long and heavy between the two of them, and Sokka can feel Zuko’s resentment for his grandfather. For his father. For everything that had happened to him and his sister. He echoes it silently through the phone. 

“But then people started to talk, I think? I don’t know, somehow a rumor started to spread around the country, that she was... losing it. I think there was a video of her or something? Whatever happened, it was too much. We were already under fire from my father’s resignation from the succession and my sudden disappearing act. So my Grandfather literally put her in a satomobile and sent her to a psychiatric hospital and called it a _wellness_ retreat.”

“Spirits, Zuko,” Sokka breathes, “Where was your Uncle for all of this? Or your cousin?”

“Hmm,” Zuko hums thoughtfully again, “my uncle loves her. He loves us both _so_ much, he’s just busy, and I think that- I think it just took a bit for him to realise she needed his help as much as I did. He and Lu Ten try, but it’s- well, you know what having a parent who runs a country is like.”

Sokka does. And as much as he knows his dad loves him and Katara he knows that sometimes, when it’s hard, they’d both give anything for just a bit more attention. 

“Anyway, Azula spent all of six hours at her _wellness retreat_ before breaking out. She was _barely_ fifteen and she stole a satomobile and then she called me from halfway across Caldera.” Zuko sounds so hollow when he says it, as if the memory renders him numb. “One of the worst parts of the city and she’s surrounded by scorch marks, and by the time I get there the satomobile behind her is on fire and I’m just… useless. She’s yelling about how she doesn't want to be alone, and I’m crying, and I need her to not fall apart because Azula has always been the strong one. Until one day she wasn’t.

“Our mother is dead, and our father is... a worthless piece of shit, who ruined the both of us for so long. And half my face was still wrapped in bandages, but I just sat down next to her and hugged her and told her I liked guys, and I needed her to be alright. I needed her to not- I told her she couldn’t leave me too. That I couldn’t do it alone, either.”

“The next day, she went back into the hospital, and she’s been taking care of herself ever since, taking care of me too sometimes… and neither of us has ever told anyone about that night. Until now, I suppose.”

“Does it feel better to have said it at all?”

“I suppose so. Thank you. For listening,” a pause, “Sokka.”

“No worries,” he fights to keep his voice on a nonchalant level. As if Zuko hasn’t just bared another piece of his soul for Sokka. “That’s all uh… Well, that’s pretty rough, buddy.” 

Zuko snorts with laughter. “Shut up.” 

“I’m serious!”

“A serious pain in my ass,” Sokka thinks he can hear the smile in Zuko’s voice, and it warms him, just like Zuko would warm him if he was here. And not half the world away down a phone line. He rolls onto his side, clicking the phone onto speaker and setting it beside him on the pillow. Tries to imagine Zuko being here. He’s quiet on the end of the line, but Zuko’s often quiet so it’s not that different, really. 

“Hey,” Sokka says, “What about your mother?”

“My mother?”

He almost regrets asking, but he can’t resist. There’s another of Zuko’s soft, telltale little hums. 

“She loved turtleducks,” he starts, and that makes sense, because Zuko loves them too. 

The way Zuko tells it is far more raw than anything Sokka has heard before, but far softer. He knows only of Zuko's mother what he read in the papers when he himself was still just a kid. Lady Ursa: beloved, beautiful, tragic. A Lady, turned player, turned Princess on the whim of a Fire Prince who thought she was stunning but never really understood her. Does Zuko see the similarities between the woman he describes and the man he has become, Sokka can’t help but wonder.

He talks instead of sunsets by the turtleduck pond in the courtyard. Sneaking away from the Ember Island estate to go see classic plays put on by the group, his mother whispering the words of the leading lady in his ear. Poetry and music and laughter, but then arguments too. Bitter, wretched words carrying through the halls of the Royal Caldera Palace, when Zuko shouldn’t have been able to hear them. 

The conversation shifts, subtly, to the point where it’s not just Zuko’s mother they’re talking about anymore. They know almost everything about each other’s current lives, the conferences and the work, and the daily tribulations, but a dam breaks somewhere and Zuko talks about growing up in a palace where everyone knew his name. People dipping into bows when he was just a child and not knowing what on earth to do with that. The lisp that his father insisted had to go until he was in elocution lessons almost as often as he was in firebending ones. The sword lessons his mother insisted and Lu Ten fought for.

Zuko’s last memories of trips to Ember Island with his mother and Azula where they were hounded by the press. Flashbulbs and shouted questions from people who thought it was okay because she was a former actress, because they were _royalty._ They worked for the people. They should be used to the pressures of fame. Never mind that he was just a child, never mind that it was cruel. His mother trying desperately to shield him from all of that.

Until one day she wasn't there anymore.

Sokka talks too, moving back to lie on his bed and stare up at the canopy, because he wants a fair exchange. But also because he doesn’t mind baring his soul to Zuko. He feels the weight of what Zuko has shared settle onto his own chest. Unable to be moved until he gets his own burdens lifted. They are a pair of equals, or they try to be. This would not work any other way. 

He talks about growing up between Kya, Hakoda and Bato; ice festivals and auroras and wishing on stars for just a little more time with them between campaigns. Long winters spent with his Gran Gran sitting them round the fire and telling them their history. The traditions of the tribe passed elder to child, as it had always been. He talks, as much as Zuko did, about losing his mother. The accident in Republic City, and the gaping crack that seemed to appear between Bato and his Dad, even if they still act like it’s not there. 

About Katara, who’s struggling so hard to prove herself, that Sokka worries about her as much as he knows she worries about him. About feeling overshadowed by her, the Southern Water Tribe’s true prodigy. The best waterbender in a generation, and how could Sokka compare? How could he even hope to match up? And how that’s just one of the things that makes him push himself so hard he’s almost crushed under the weight.

He talks about Jet, because for the first time ever he feels like he can. Not just calling him when he couldn’t call Zuko, but that summer all those years ago too. Everything he felt and how it should have been the biggest clue but it took Zuko to actually make him understand it. How guilty he feels for the fights he had with Jet towards the end of their not-quite-relationship. Petty disagreements over the smallest and biggest of things. The result of two young, headstrong personalities with clashing opinions on the right thing. They were always bound to butt heads.

Zuko laughs, and tells him about his own, very few, similar ex-boyfriends. Boys who scared easily when Mai showed up with binders. Boys who didn't like the acid wit, sharp tongue and quick temper that makes Zuko positively fascinating to Sokka. 

Sokka can’t help but smile, when Zuko tells him that, since New Year’s, since even a month or two before that, there’s not been anyone. No one but Sokka. 

He closes his eyes, and pictures the beginning of all of this, in the bed he lies in right now, and replies.

“No, I’ve not been with anyone else either.”

It’s soft, and it’s quiet, and he almost doesn’t mean to confess it, but it makes him smile, and he wraps himself around the pillow next to him, phone still tucked to his ear. Zuko doses off before him, not hanging up before he falls asleep, but Sokka can’t bring himself to wake him back up - he has awful enough sleep habits - but he doesn’t hang up either. Just lets the soft, distant sound of Zuko’s snores lull him to sleep as well.

A week later, when he’s scrolling through his phone idly, he sees a text post reading _“I simply do not vibe with my Father”_ and sends it to Zuko. **this u?** There’s no response for a while, his phone resting on top of his notes almost unnervingly silent before he gets a message back. It’s a picture of Azula, tears just visible in her eyes from the blurry, slightly shaky image, but Sokka can tell she’s smiling too. Crying tears of mirth, then. **you broke Azula.** the text reads.

They’ve crossed some new kind of bridge, Sokka realises, with that phone call. 

But he can’t find it within himself to mind.

The thing about little sisters, as Zuko could have told him, is they find out everything eventually.

Late nights in the Kuruk Library are becoming an unfortunate feature in Sokka’s life, as the school year winds closer and closer towards exams and deadlines, and he tries not to stress out about it. His Final Report is open in one window and the Republic City Policy notes open in another. He’s combined the two, as if it will make less work for him, but now he’s overshooting his word count by about a thousand words, and he’s struggling to make sense of Republic City voting patterns.

He knows the tribe’s voting system like the back of his hand. The seventeen northern districts and the sixteen southern - all with district leaders running, and declaring which chief will get their vote if elected. And the final Republic City vote rounding it all out. On the face of it, it all seems very reasonable, but it was set up after the Hundred Year War, and that ended over a hundred years ago, so Sokka thinks maybe it’s time to take another look at it and see if it still works for the modern Tribes. The South was smaller then but it’s not necessarily true now.

The other problem is Republic City. Just shy of two and a half million eligible Water Tribe voters who could make all the difference to the vote that determines the Chief, if Sokka can only convince them that voting for his Dad, because his policies are in their interests. A job made all the harder now he’s up against Zhao’s predicted City Council seat, as well as the lower Republic City voter turnout in the Chieftaincy election.

All of these facts are blinking unhelpfully on his screen, as he’s caught between the report on disenfranchisement and disinterest in Republic City Water Tribe voters, and proposals for a campaign rally there. 

Just as he feels his brain is about to fry from yet another roadblock, he picks up his phone intending to see if he can’t get Zuko to send him a picture of Druk or something. What he gets instead, is a message from Katara.

> **KitKat(ara) 🌊**
> 
> **[17:22] KitKat(ara) 🌊**
> 
> Sokka where r u???
> 
> [17:34] Sokka
> 
> library
> 
> why???
> 
> **[17:36] KitKat(ara) 🌊**
> 
> Dinner at 7pm? Also can you pick up some Kale cookies on your way home?
> 
> [17:50] Sokka
> 
> sure! see you later :)

When he finally steps out of the library doors four hours later, and pulls out his phone, there’s two missed calls from his sister, and five angry texts. Well… shit. 

He groans and buries his phone back in the front pocket of his parka, pulling the hood up around his ears and setting off through the dark, wind-bitten streets. He takes the steps to the Palace two at a time. As if that will make Katara any less mad, if he gets there 3 hours and 28 minutes late, instead of 3 and a half hours. 

Her door is shut when he gets to their floor. 

Usually, he wouldn’t dream of going in without being invited. He used to barge in when they were kids but when she learned how to freeze his feet to the floor, he learned that antagonising her when he was already on her bad side was a bad idea. He knocks, before pushing the door open though. If she really didn’t want to see him, he figures, she’d have locked the door. 

“Katara-”

“I really don’t want to hear it, actually, Sokka.” She doesn’t look up from her phone. Scrolling with determinedly level calm and not looking at him. He frowns, shaking the last of the melted snowflakes out of his hair, and tries not to let the guilt sink through him too hard.

“I’m sorr-”

“ _T_ _ui and La,_ what did I just say?!” she snaps, “I don’t want to hear some apology that you don’t mean! You were in the library. I get it! Your head’s still in the clouds of Sokka-land, it’s _fine!”_

Sokka scoffs, “It’s clearly not!”

“Do you at least have my Kale cookies?”

The text messages from almost four hours ago flash through his head. “...shit.” 

“Forget it, Sokka,” 

“I’ll make it up to you, I’ll go back out and get you some. I’ll get us take out, I’m so sorr-”

“It’s not about the cookies, Sokka! I don’t _care_ about one stupid meal!”

“Then let me apologise!” he exclaims, “Or better yet, tell me what’s really the matter here?”

She shoots him a withering look, and he realises, a little belatedly, that she looks like she's been crying. The guilty pit in his stomach drops another level.

Katara sighs and turns her attention pointedly back to her phone.

“It doesn’t- Nothing, okay? It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing!” he says, stepping further into her room and shutting the door behind him. “Katara, you’re my baby sister, if something matters this much to you, I want you to be able to tell me!” 

“Fine, you know what, fine!” Katara tosses her phone to the side with a clatter. “I’m sick of watching you turn into Dad! I’m sick of watching you not sleep, and stay in the library for twelve hours a day, and work a full-time job while you-”

“It’s a part-time job-”

“A _full-time_ job a fucking month and a half before you graduate! Doing it for dad because he says it’s okay, when I _know_ you’re not okay.”

“I’m fine!”

“You’re _not!”_ she yells, and Sokka can see the tears - angry tears - forming in her eyes again. “Maybe you can’t see it, but this is unsustainable! And you don’t seem to have a problem with it!”

“I don’t have a problem! This is my life, Katara! I want to go into politics, to help people! This is how that goes, and you know that! So how about you tell me what _your_ problem really is!”

“Maybe my _problem_ is that you’re _sleeping with the Fire Prince.”_

The pit in Sokka's stomach very suddenly swallows him whole. He is hollowed out by the realisation that Katara _knows._ Katara knows about him and she knows about Zuko. 

“I’m not- We’re not- Katara, I can explain.”

The only thing is, Sokka _can’t_ actually explain. Whatever’s going on with Zuko is actually too large and intangible for words, so he just stands there, mouth opening and closing like a fish, before Katara growls and throws her pillow at him. 

“You’re _unbelievable,”_ she huffs, “For once in your life, why didn’t you think things through? I mean… _Zuko?!_ ”

“Hey!” he protests, but she doesn’t take it back. Katara is angry, and for once - Sokka thinks - that’s perfectly fair enough. He sighs. “Did Yue tell you?”

“No, she wouldn't do that to you.” She reaches over to her dresser and grabs the Republic City Gazette, flipping to a dog-eared double page spread and thrusting it at him. There’s a photo of him and Zuko, the day after his birthday heading round the Art Museum there. He remembers desperately wanting to be arm in arm. It shows in his face. “I’m just not an idiot, unlike apparently everyone else. Well, everyone else apart from _Yue_ , I guess.”

He sits down heavily in her desk chair. Her expression softens only slightly at the guilty look on his face. 

“I was going to wait. For you to tell me. I thought… maybe you just needed a little time? But then, you weren’t exactly _subtle._ I know you love going to Republic City but all those charity things and international policy conferences? You've never exactly been subtle, Sokka, but come _on_."

"But-,"

"You could have talked to me, you know? I get that I'm just your little sister, but you can tell me things too."

"I didn't know how," Sokka sighs, "You're… you make everything look so easy."

"Right…"

"No, I know it's not," he says quickly, "But I know this, whatever is going on with Zuko, it won't always stay easy. And I didn't want to think about that, yet."

"What, and you knew as your sensible little sister, I would make you actually think about what you're doing?"

"Something like that…"

She laughs. "I didn't get it at first. Then when I _did,_ I just figured maybe you had always had a crush on him, or something?" Sokka is once again astounded that someone else worked out what was going on with his feelings for Zuko. Next thing he knows Osha will be breaking down his door to clue him in on proper protocol for romantic liaisons with a foreign state leader. 

"You're brilliant, Sokka. And I know you think I make everything look easy, but you're capable of so much, I'm always so worried you'll never find something to match what you want to give the world. But watching the two of you together, the way you look at him. The way he looks at you…"

"Okay, we're not like that-"

" _He's_ your match, Sokka."

Katara sighs, rolling her eyes at him when he frowns, looking like he's going to stammer out a protest about not believing in soulmates. All of that stuff is usually her domain and he respects her interest in the spiritual but it's never been for him.

"You have so much you want to give," she sighs, when he doesn't come up with any smart retort. "But you don't have to let the world take everything from you all at once."

Sokka frowns, confused, "What do you mean?"

"I just mean- Dad and Bato, and Mom, when she was alive. The three of them were always doing so much, but now… Dad’s here, and Bato’s in Republic City and Mom’s-” she cuts herself off, biting her lip. He can almost sense one of her motivational speeches coming on. “And yeah, I want to scream at Dad sometimes, for treating us like kids and throwing us to the wolves at the same time, and I know I can’t exactly criticise the overworking thing, because I do it too. But I think… I don’t know, something just clicked in the past couple of months while you were busy doing absolutely everything just to prove that you could.”

“What _clicked_?” he frowns, “Katara, you’ve lost me.”

“You don’t have to lose yourself on the way to getting what you want.” she moves over on the bed, and Sokka goes, sitting beside her, feeling just a little bit numb. “You figure it out one step at a time, you look after yourself. And _you_ specifically… You can have Zuko, and do things your way, and still make a difference in the world. But not like this, Sokka. Not in a way that’s clearly burning you out.”

Sokka blinks, looking across at his little sister. A girl who takes on so much, that this speech could come across as hypocritical but it just comes out sincere. Because Katara does everything with her entire heart, including loving her brother. She’s so bright, and she loves so hard, and he thinks maybe, he’s not been particularly fair to her lately. He might never be fair enough to her.

“I’m sorry,” he says again, and this time she lets him. Picking up her phone again and leaning against him. She makes a noise, and he knows she accepts the apology. They’ve never been at odds for long. 

Sighing, his stomach settles a little, and his gaze flickers down to the magazine she had thrust at him. Still clutched in his hand. He traces his fingertips over the line of Zuko’s scar, trapping half his face in a scowl even if the rest of his face is lit up with laughter, and his memory flickers back to the conversation a few weeks ago. The one that felt like a tipping point at the top of a precipice, and the cavern that surely waits at the bottom.

“I just can’t believe you knew, the whole time.”

“Sokka, my bedroom is approximately four-feet from yours.” He can hear the eye-roll in her voice, before her meaning registers.

"Oh no…"

"Oh _yes,_ you prick," she says, "thank the spirits for high quality headphones."

"I am begging you to stop talking."

That night, lying in his own bed. He thinks about it all over again. The image of Zuko in the magazine. Everything he’s been through and the weight of everything he carries. How much Sokka wants to tell him that it’s fine to be who he is, Sokka’s happy to share the burden. Not that he’s ever _said_ any of this to him. That will surely push him down into that cavern. 

And Katara’s not right, he’s not hurtling too fast already, giving away everything at once. He’s just… Sokka, working at a million miles a minute because that’s who he is. He’s never thought it shouldn’t be. Taking one step at a time is too slow; he’s already planning seven steps ahead. Zuko had just never been a part of his plan, before.

He tosses over in bed and thinks about how he could do things differently. Thinks back to what he was working on in the Library. Republic City. Voter reform. The laws he understands but has never really felt fully able to fight, or innovate his way around, even with 90% of a degree and a sure shot for what he wants from his future. The people who deserve a voice, and a fight, and Sokka’s time. Time that he can’t give if he’s focused like a sea-hawk on his destination of the council office in Republic City. 

What would be lost along the way?

Sokka’s final exams come and go all too suddenly. A week of stamping his word count down to an acceptable number and transforming it into a presentation, and taking the prescribed stress meditation Katara insisted he get before he gives it. Three exams, and two all-nighters at the Kuruk library later - he should really ask if his Dad can get Suki a pay rise - it’s all over.

The move from graduand to graduate passes in a blur too. It’s in the paper, and he tries not to let that go to his head. _Chief’s Son graduates with honors in Science, Engineering, and Public Policy from HCU._ There’s a photo of him halfway across the stage that they’ve pulled from one of his classmates’ social media accounts. 

Zuko sends him a screenshot of the photo later. The message reads **_with honors! ;)_ ** and Sokka starts grinning all over again, before Katara is grabbing him by the arm and dragging him back out to the courtyard. Rolling her eyes when he pouts about putting the phone away. It’s not as weird as he’d worried it would be, with her knowing. She makes fun of him a little more, when he smiles stupidly at his phone, but it’s not _difficult_ like he was worried it would be. 

She drags him over to Yue, who holds out sparkling wine flutes for them both, and grins. 

“You next, Katara,” she challenges and his little sister laughs, clinking their glasses together. 

“Yeah, and I’m going to beat the both of you,” she threatens. 

It’s all so blessedly normal, apart from the fact that it’s in the Southern Water Tribe Palace and not just the home he grew up in. His dad and Bato are getting on with each other, and Bato pulls him into a tight hug whenever Sokka gets too close, and tells him how proud he is. Even Osha hands him a graduation gift, before promptly scowling when he tries to thank them. It’s so pleasant, he can almost forget he’s the Chief’s son. Until everyone’s phones, including his, go off at the same time. 

**ZHAO CONFIRMED FOR FIRE NATION REPUBLIC CITY NOMINATION.**

The illusion shatters, as everyone reads the same thing from their alerts, Sokka’s graduation party turns into a bit of an impromptu strategy meeting, and he sighs. Any other day would be fine, but for once, he can't actually stay for this. It’s not like they didn’t already _know_ Zhao had the nomination in the bag. It was hardly a secret. 

Katara shoots him a sympathetic look as he slips back indoors, intent on heading up to his bedroom, and maybe putting on a mover. What catches him before he gets there, however, is Bato’s voice coming from one of the offices on the way. He hadn’t even noticed Bato leave the courtyard.

“-come _on,_ Dao!” Bato exclaims, and that is what catches Sokka’s attention. He flattens himself against the wall outside the office. Tilting his head round the door frame for just a second to see Bato, phone pressed to his ear, before he pulls back so Bato won’t see him when he turns around. “You know it’s not right. You are one of my best friends. You don’t have to deal with this.”

Sokka can’t hear whatever is happening on the other end of the phone, but he recognises the nickname well enough. Piandao. Why is Bato calling Piandao, rather than strategizing with his dad. Sure, Piandao is safely occupying the other Fire Nation Republic City Council seat, but that doesn’t make any sense for Bato to be calling him.

“I know you have the files on him. Leak them to the press. Expose him-”

He cuts off as Piandao retorts, and Sokka can feel his heart in his throat.

“It is that simple! Dao, listen to me-”

Clearly, he is not given the chance to explain, but Sokka hears Bato let out a heavy sigh, before there’s the sound of footsteps, and Sokka bolts, fast as his legs will carry him, down the hall, not stopping until he’s back in his room, wondering what on _earth_ that all means.

Zuko calls Sokka when he’s on a boat, with a crystal clear cyan sky behind him, and no shirt on and it’s a bit ridiculous. Technically, it wasn’t Zuko that called him, because he’s busy steering a boat, but Aang is holding the phone up as he laughs Toph lounging beside him as she sips something from a coconutfruit. Aang, who is delightfully supportive of the two of them sorting their shit out, because it means Zuko is just a bit less sulky, some of the time, and he kind of loves love, or so he says. And Toph, who thinks they're both ridiculous.

Sokka’s only half convinced Aang's approval of him has absolutely nothing to do with his sister. Less so when Aang tilts the phone back to him, halfway through Zuko explaining _why_ they’re on a boat in the middle of the ocean. Planning international philanthropic efforts.

“Actually, we wanted to know if you’d come to a fundraiser with us next month?”

“Me?”

“Well, Katara and Yue are invited as well, if they want to!” There it is, but Aang doesn’t falter, bright as ever while he continues, “Azula’s coming too.”

“What for?”

Zuko slides back into shot, happy that the boat is not about to crash or sink as Aang rockets into how Zuko convinced the Hira’a Royal Theatre Company to put on a production of _Love Amongst the Dragons,_ in honor of his mother and to raise funds for the ongoing Western Air Temple heritage restoration project Aang is working on. 

That’s how they end up on Ember Island, a fortnight later, in a blisteringly hot Royal Box at the iconic Ember Island theatre. 

He tries not to be intimidated by Azula, when he meets her properly and she narrows her eyes at him, and says “he’ll do” to Zuko, as if that kind of judgment isn’t both terrifying and insulting. She has Zuko’s face, almost, but framed with two long strands of dark brown, silky hair, and the same flashing, gold eyes. 

Aang steps on the stage, as the orchestra quiets, and the lights dim around the auditorium. Thanks the players for being kind enough to put this on, thanks the assembled nobility and celebrities for purchasing tickets. Reminds them all of the Air Nation regeneration efforts going on in the four corners of the world, and in Republic City. 

Then he slips off the side off the stage, and back up to the Royal Box just in time for the curtain to lift. 

It’s been a while since Sokka last saw _Love Amongst The Dragons._ Zuko has spent the better part of a year trying to get him to watch the first mover adaptation. Or better yet the stage recording of the Hira’a Royal Theatre Company, that’s notoriously difficult to get his hands on just because it has Zuko’s mother in it.

Zuko might as well have the play committed to memory, from the way he keeps muttering the lines of the Blue Spirit in Sokka’s ear. Closer than they strictly should be, it’s not proper. But he realises, with a thrill of glee, that everyone in the box _knows_ about them. They know, and they don’t care, and he can just let himself be with Zuko tonight. 

He remembers Zuko saying that in another life, he’d be an actor. He delivers the whispered lines with enough emotion that Sokka thinks, if he wasn’t a prince, it would almost be a waste if Zuko did anything else. 

They almost reach the end of the play, before the words finally jog Sokka’s memory enough that he feels like he can play along.

"Strong words, from a thieving rogue," Sokka whispers, in time with the lead actress and almost exactly the same inflection. Zuko's head whirls round, perplexed for a moment, before he grins wide and open.

“What, pray tell, did I steal?” he whispers with a smirk, tilting his head to the side. 

“Perhaps, sir, you have stolen my heart.”

Sokka says it, without thinking, remembering the words faster than he can filter them.

Zuko’s eyes meet his, the dark gold shimmering from the reflection of the stage lights. Sokka holds his breath but he’s not sure why. There’s something captivating in his gaze; deep and longing, and enough to make Sokka feel like he’s caught in a maelstrom. About to be pulled under and washed out to sea. 

“Then I cannot help but give mine in return,” he says evenly, and Sokka feels like he can draw breath again, but he doesn’t, he can’t risk it coming out as a gasp. He just holds Zuko’s gaze and waits, and waits and-

The applause startles him back to the reality that exists outside just the two of them. Sokka jumps, but Zuko turns, as if he hadn’t just repeated the love confession from his favourite play as deeply and intently as if he had truly meant them, and claps demurely. The stoic, perfect prince, clapping at a Charity Theatre Performance. Nothing more and nothing less.

If not for Zuko, they wouldn't have made it through the bows. Azula is eager to be "literally anywhere but here" and Sokka is inclined to agree. He can’t get Zuko’s look out of his mind, and he can’t stop _thinking_ about where every other meeting they’ve arranged like this has led them. Suki and Ty Lee meet them at the door, and usher them into a stretched satomobile, that carries them to the heart of Ember Island, and it’s thriving nightlife. 

Toph cracks open a bottle of sparkling wine for the journey, as Azula directs the driver to a downtown location. Sokka can’t help but wonder how she knows about it. 

It’s spontaneous, and vibrant, and when Zuko smiles at him, it’s absolutely everything he wants in that moment. Suki rolls her eyes at all of them as he winks at her on the way into the club, before positioning herself from the opposite corner to Ty Lee when they’re settled into a secluded booth. Maybe the assembled public won’t realise there’s two members of the royal family and multiple children of foreign state leaders there. 

“Spirits, Azula, what are you making us drink?” Katara says when a tray of green-filled shot glasses shows up at their table.

“Cactus Juice,” she grins wickedly, pushing the tray towards them all. Zuko grimaces, but she just cackles, “Drink up, Zuzu, I thought we were having fun tonight!”

Zuko gapes at her in offence, and Sokka laughs, reaching over for his own shot. “I’ve not had this since Univeristy.”

“Didn’t you graduate a month ago?” Aang asks, frowning.

“And I haven’t drunk Cactus Juice since!” Beside him, Katara and Yue roll their eyes, but Zuko is still frowning at the bright green, ominous solution in his shot glass. Toph nudges him with her elbow. 

“Come on, Sparky, what could go wrong?” 

And rather than say ‘ _everything’_ Zuko sighs, and toasts his glass to the middle of the group and with a raucous cheer, the rest of them do the same, before throwing them back. 

It’s four rounds later, when they realise Azula has actually brought them to a bar hosting a Karaoke night, when Aang throws himself out of the private booth as the DJ announces the sign ups.

It’s another two rounds of Cactus Juice, before Aang is up on the stage, belting at the top of his lungs, “ _SECRET TUNNELLLLLLLL, SECRET TUNNEL!”_ He leans heavily into the microphone, and behind him, Toph is doing what can only be described as some kind of awful, interpretive modern dance, and Katara is cracking up, while Yue and Azula seem to be caught in some deep, political debate even though Azula isn’t drunk at all and Yue had exactly the same amount of Cactus Juice shots as him. 

Through all of the enrapturing chaos, Sokka looks to Zuko. 

Zuko grins back. 

Sokka can’t help himself. He throws a furtive glance around the room, the dim, multicolour lights bouncing off everything, before he slides round the almost unoccupied booth. If Yue and Azula notice the shift, they say nothing. 

“Having fun?” he asks in Zuko’s ear, leaning close enough that he’ll be heard over Aang belting a half-forgotten bridge to _Secret Tunnel._ Loose strands of Zuko’s hair are tickling his face, and his breath comes out warm when he gives a huff of laughter. 

“Oh, _definitely.”_ Zuko's hand settles high on Sokka’s thigh, and his own breath catches. 

“Zuko,” Sokka says warningly, eyes darting around the room again. But no one is paying attention to them. No one cares. There’s a glorious anonymity to it all, and it’s thrilling. 

Sokka’s heart jumps in his throat as Zuko’s hand moves higher. 

“I’ve been waiting to get you alone since the theatre,” he confesses. Voice low and hot in Sokka’s ear. Sokka glances sideways at Zuko. He’s ethereal in the dim light of the bar. Strobe lights from the stage glancing off his cheekbones, his jaw, his scar. 

Sokka starts to reach up his hand to brush it against Zuko’s face, but realises almost a second too late that he _can’t._ When Zuko grabs it, and holds it underneath the table. 

“Later, baby,” he promises, and something about the way his voice curls round the word does something funny to Sokka’s heart. A strangled noise makes its way out of his throat and Zuko’s smirk turns self-satisfied.

“Later,” he continues, in the same low voice, “I’m going to get you to do such things to me. Going to have you all over me, and on top of me and it's going to be so fucking beautiful."

Sokka's mind is entirely blank of any kind of response and he cannot look away from Zuko's captivating gaze. He doesn't know if it's the Cactus Juice, or the atmosphere, or the intoxicating nearness of Zuko, but all he can do is nod. Sokka feels rather hot, and he doesn't think it has anything to do with the Fire Nation climate.

Zuko goes to say something else, but from the other side of the table, Azula clears her throat loudly. Beside her, Yue is hiding barely concealed laughter behind her hand, her shoulders shaking with it. 

“Need to get a room, Zuzu?” she challenges, and Zuko grits his teeth, tilting his head round to glare at his sister.

His retort is cut off by the reappearance of Toph, Katara, and Aang all sung out and draped over one another. Katara is leaning heavily into the arm Aang has around her waist, and there's a smear of her dark pink lipstick on his neck. A flower in her hair that Sokka doesn't understand how got there. Neither of them can stop giggling.

Toph looks disgusted. 

"Come on you four, these two are being disgusting so I need back up," she jerks a thumb at Aang and Katara. "We're fucking dancing."

The hours after that seems to pass in a blur. It's the hazy decadence of New Year's all over again, but brighter. Beside him Yue laughs as she spins Azula in a reluctant twirl, the Fire Princess elegant in everything she does. Aang whirls Katara around and his little sister won't stop grinning and it's so nice to see her happy. Toph is bouncing around on Zuko's back, and Zuko…

Zuko is unguarded as Sokka has ever seen him. Face turned towards Sokka and grinning widely, truly.

At some point on the journey back to the hotel, when they are all danced out, and Aang’s voice is hoarse from belting tune after tune, and getting them all involved, Sokka’s hair came down, and he’s tying it back up as they stumble through the lobby. Yue has a bag of takeaway food in hand. Fire flakes covered in sauce. It’s so quiet, except for them, and Katara keeps shushing them through laughter, and Toph keeps retorting that she’s the only one making noise. There’s no one, except for the night porter viewing them all with a skeptical eye though of course he won’t say a _word_ after the look Azula levels him.

They get to the top floor, four rooms booked in the name of royalty, and Toph laughs as she shoves Aang into the first room, and he won’t stop saying how _happy_ he is that they’re all friends now. She promises to look after him, and Katara pouts as Yue tempts her away with the promise of some of her flakes, and the promise that they can get breakfast with Aang in the morning, as they take the second room.

It’s a lot quieter, when it’s just Sokka and the Fire Royalty in the corridor. Azula smirks at him, the remaining keys hanging off her finger tauntingly. “Shall we say good night, then, boys?”

“Good night, Azula,” Zuko says firmly, grabbing out for the key. 

“Remember to behave, Zuzu!” she calls over her shoulder, as she saunters down the hall and vanishes round the corner to the fourth room. They hear the door shut, and Zuko looks down at the key in his hand before glancing up at Sokka. 

Sokka cannot resist. He leans in, and kisses Zuko, crowding him against the door of their hotel room. There’s no one to see. No one to care, as he pulls the key from Zuko’s fingers with one hand, and slides his own fingers through Zuko’s hair. Nails scratching against his scalp and Zuko moans, a soft noise from the base of his throat. Behind him, Sokka finally unlocks the door, and with the weight of them against it, it falls open and swings shut behind them as they stumble inside. 

Zuko forms fists around handfuls of Sokka’s shirt, tugging him in and close as Sokka drops the key and the two of them stagger into the room in a tangle of messy kisses. Zuko’s hands tug, and Sokka’s pull, and clothes fall in the trail of the path they leave across the room, towards the bed. All it takes is a light shove before he tumbles back onto it, and Sokka crawls on top of him, leaning down for another greedy kiss. 

His hands slide up, long fingers through Sokka’s hair, as one of Sokka’s slides down, settling on Zuko’s hip, as they arch up against him. Wanting. 

“You’re such a fucking tease, you know that?” he growls against Zuko’s throat, “All that talk, earlier? Driving me insane.”

“What are you going to do about it?” There’s a challenge in his voice that does something to Sokka. Pulls at some deep, longing, Want inside of him. 

He pulls back, and both their chests are heaving, and he smiles, determined. “I’m going to give you the best night of your entire spiritsdamned life.” 

Zuko’s eyes flicker, and he leans up to kiss Sokka again, slowly, passionately. He moves beneath Sokka, and Sokka’s fascinated as ever by the man before him. Zuko who is in his head, and in his blood, and encroaching on his very soul. In that hazy moment, Sokka realises that maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t mind being able to do this forever. 

Find somewhere that no one can pull Zuko apart again, and fall apart together instead. In the ways that only they want to. 

Sokka moves his hand inward from Zuko’s hip, but Zuko breaks the kiss, blinking back to reality as he looks up at him with wide eyes, and a breathless, nervous smile. “Wait,” he says, and Sokka stills instantly. Moving to pull back until Zuko’s hand wraps in a strong grip around his arm. “No I mean- wait, I want-,” he falters, and Sokka tilts his head, curious and encouraging. 

Getting Zuko to say what he wants is not always easy. His confidence ebbs and flows like the ocean; harsh waves crashing over in spikes of anger and then pulling back so fast that he cannot ask for the things he wants.

So it means everything when Zuko wraps his legs around him, pulls him down and close, and asks very softly, if Sokka will fuck him. Sokka smiles, and leans down, pressing the two of them into the mattress with his body as he kisses Zuko deeply. Running a hand softly over Zuko's cheek just as he longed to do back at the bar.

“Are you sure?”

He checks, pulling back after a moment, because they’re not really drunk anymore. There’s alcohol and cactus juice in his system, and in Zuko’s, and that’s why Zuko asking this seems not to faze him as much as it otherwise should. Another first. Another barrier crossed. 

Zuko nods, eyes sure as they always are when they do this. “I can show you how, if you don’t...” 

“Hey, I graduated with _honours_ in Engineering, I’m sure I can work out the mechanics,” he laughs, and Zuko rolls his eyes, shuffling to sit up as Sokka sits back. “I meant are you sure that you want to?”

Sokka watches as Zuko drops his head back against the board for a second, before taking a deep breath, reaching over to his back of toiletries. It takes a moment, but Sokka understands when Zuko presses a condom and a tiny jar of lube into his hand. The forethought surprises Sokka, considering Zuko’s not exactly known for thinking things through, but it is this, more than anything else that tells him Zuko _wants_ this. Has wanted this for some time.

He swallows, looking down at the items in his hand, before he looks back up to Zuko’s face. Smiling nervously. “Okay, babe,” he says, the endearment easy on his lips. “Okay.” 

Sokka has learned a little bit more about reading Zuko every day since he has known him. Since they met, properly, on a distant balcony on Caldera half a year ago. He’s learned more in every midnight meeting and secret tryst as they sneak out of galas and conferences and into hotel rooms and private suites.

Zuko is a masterpiece, as Sokka gazes down at his face in awe. Unable to look anywhere else, than that happy, blissed, astonished face. Surprised that he’s getting everything he wants, just because he asked and the word “baby” slips from his lips again, but with a far softer inflection than it had in the bar. Less commanding and more like a plea, as he nods to Sokka’s unspoken question.

_Are you ready?_

He has learned to read Zuko’s tiniest inflections, and his biggest ones. What he wants and when he is wanting. The way his body responds to Sokka’s hands, sensitive and eager. How, when Sokka settles himself at last between Zuko’s legs, and leans down to kiss him. He knows he’s ready. He knows they both are. 

Zuko’s grip tightens on his bicep. His fingertips sparking against Sokka's skin when he comes apart. The soft look on his face is enough to undo Sokka as well. Pleased and awed and amazed, and Sokka doesn’t have to ask if that feeling of closeness was as good for him as it was for Sokka.

They collapse together, afterwards, sticky and slick and sweaty. Sokka rests his head on Zuko’s chest and tries not to remind himself that it’s this firm because Zuko wields fucking swords. He can’t think about everything incredible about Zuko right now. He focuses instead, on Zuko’s hand, running lazily through his hair. 

Zuko rolls them over in the end so he’s not sleeping in the wet patch they’ve made. Sokka twisting in his grip until they’re curled around each other. Fitted together, chest to back, feet intertwined at end of the bed, fingers interlaced against Sokka’s stomach. 

It’s like this, with Zuko murmuring soft words in his ear, that he finally falls asleep.

Zuko’s not in the bed when he wakes up to the blaring of his alarm. He’s not far, though, and just like he usually does, Sokka finds him on the balcony. Glaring out over the bay of Ember Island from the peace of their private balcony. Sokka wraps his arms around him from behind, resting his chin on Zuko’s shoulder, and he starts a little before relaxing back into Sokka. Exhaling in a smoky breath. 

They don’t say anything that morning. Heads pounding as they slip into the shower together, and there’s quiet, soft touches. It’s intimate and private as his Zuko becomes Fire Prince Zuko once again. Sokka fights the urge to promise that he’ll see him again soon, because he knows that’s the one thing he can never promise. 

That’s probably why Zuko’s scowling, and there’s nothing Sokka can really do about it, no matter how much he wants to. And he wants to quite desperately.

Too desperately for what is still, technically, a casual affair.

When they rendezvous with their respective handlers in the corridor, Mai is giving Azula and Zuko slightly critical looks, as her knife-sharp nails curl around her phone. Suki just laughs at them all, her eyes fond as Ty Lee shakes her head.

Aang looks infuriatingly chipper for someone who had as many Cactus Juice shots as him, and he won’t stop grinning at Katara. She and Yue look tired, hungover but standing. Toph’s hair is sticking up in every direction imaginable, and Azula won’t stop scowling at it, and Sokka marvels, once again, at how incredible his life is right now.

It’s a revelation all over again, that as Toph punches his arm and starts dragging him down the hall, making him promise to text her sometime rather than just Sparky, that he’s gained more than just Zuko at some point over the past year. He’s gained friends as well. 

And no matter what comes next, he doesn’t want to ever change that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is Love on Ember Island just Love Island, fire nation style? Maybe so.
> 
> Also god, this chapter was a Bitch to write! Zuko and Azula backstory big Oof. But I hope I did them justice!! And furthermore: WE’RE OVER 50K I’M FUCKING YELLING???? I DON’T KNOW HOW THAT HAPPENED? I started writing this back in sept because I thought it would be fun to do a close adaptation of RWARB and make it Zukka and??? Now we’re here???
> 
> Elaboration on CWs, zuko tells sokka he got his scar from ozai when he was sixteen, talks about his sister being sent to a psychiatric hospital against her will, and discusses his mother's death. Later in the chapter the gaang go on a night out, and Zuko and Sokka have sex.


	8. it comes undone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thirsty emails. More weather metaphors. Bad choices and some revelations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out of the week goes to [scarlet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blanchards/pseuds/blanchards), who thought my writer’s block tumblr posts were funny, but inevitably came to me “like a dad in an american coming of age movie sitting on the bottom of his kids bed sympathetically like “how’s it going kiddo”” (in their own words)
> 
> I hope you all enjoy the chapter ;) once again there is sexual content here

**i am undone**

> Zuko <zsozin@calderaemail.com>
> 
> 10:03 AM 
> 
> to Sokka

Sokka,

I am undone.

Since the morning you returned south, I have been utterly useless. Completely undone, and it's entirely your fault. Your smile haunts me, and behind eyelids, the picture of your face lingers. I can’t help but wonder if you know what a disastrous menace you are to the Fire Nation Monarchy right now? 

The tragic fate of my ancestors, to have one of the most Royal and Excellent sons of Agni utterly undone at the thought of a Water Tribe boy’s lips on mine. How dishonorable. I'm quite sure Fire Lord Sozin's ashes are turning over in the crypts beneath the palace. 

And how little I care.

The truth is I have not stopped thinking of you since that night. That I close my eyes and can feel you press me into the mattress. Your hands on my hips and your lips on mine, kissing me so hard like you wanted me to remember. But understand, I could never forget you. You possess my thoughts too entirely.

I want you. And maybe in the eyes of the spirits it makes me damned, but I miss you, too.

Yours in wanting, 

Zuko 

* * *

**Re: i am undone**

> Sokka <s-okka@swt45.com>
> 
> 11:12 AM 
> 
> to Zuko

Zuko, 

Only you would bring up your long dead ancestor’s remains in a flirtatious email, I swear.

Speaking of, you’re really intent on ruining any chance I’ve got at being productive at work, huh? Give a poor guy a break. I’ll have you know receiving your thirst emails in the middle of my meeting with Osha is absolutely the last thing I needed, you absolute jerk.

Your pretty words are almost enough to drive me to distraction, make me promise to fly back to your stupid nation and repeat all the things we did on Ember Island. I cannot tell you how good it sounds when you whisper my name in that voice, sunshine.

So I guess all I can say is I miss you too.

Yours warmly,

Sokka

* * *

He almost envies Katara. She has always known what she wanted just like him, but the key difference between them has always been their fluidity. She’ll move with what she learns, and adapt to her situation. Sokka has not taken his eye off the prize of being Republic City’s youngest councillor for almost as long as he’s known what that meant. He’s never considered the slow path; the International Law Aptitude Test, Law School in Republic City, fighting for the rights of the people he wants to represent. He’s always figured the faster he gets to a council seat the better, and the way to do that is to throw himself headfirst into politics. This job. This life. 

But he’s exhausted.

So he envies Katara, but he hates her too for the identity crisis she’s given him. Because he can see the knowing look in her eye, when he’s thinking about her words. 

Lately, he’s been thinking about them a lot. 

It’s almost falling apart. The perfect world that Sokka is trying to create for himself. The weeks that drag after Ember Island are painful. Long and arduous and filled with too much stress and too little reward. It’s more than he wants to handle, but he doesn’t have a choice. Whenever Pakku appears on the screens in the campaign office, talking about the strength in “Traditional Values”. Whenever Hahn talks about the different girls he’s dating, and tries to get Sokka to try and get him a date with Yue. When he’s collapsing, exhausted, after five hours of public appearances. He thinks of _"you don't have to let the world take everything at once."_

The only reprieve he gets from the noise both inside and outside his head is Zuko’s emails. Zuko’s messages. Zuko’s soft words of affirmation. Zuko promising to take him apart piece by piece and put him back together the next time he sees him.

It’s a distraction, and a welcome one. But in the end, that’s all it is. 

The campaign is difficult, the longer it drags on. Dwindling down to an election day looming a few months away. All the hurdles they have to jump over before then. The SWT Candidates Conference coming up in Republic City. All the platforms and policies and everything that has to be sorted, that has to encourage people to get out there and vote. Vote for his dad. 

He can’t think about losing, because that way lies ruin.

So instead he channelled all his focus onto a rally in Republic City, and when it’s successful, and the crowds greet his Dad’s speech with cheers and interest, and a million or so votes from Republic City doesn’t feel incredibly out of reach anymore, he feels a little calmer. A little more like they can _do this._ That Pakku and his bigotry and Zhao and his hatred are not the only ways forward. 

His job is stressful, and he’s still fighting off the burn out Katara warned him would hit, and he’s still staring at his master document on Republic City campaign policy and compiling a pile of notes bigger than he knows what to do with. But they can do this. They can win this election.

At least, _he_ thinks they can. 

“You really think you can secure the Republic City vote?” Hahn appears at his shoulder so silently that Sokka almost jumps, but he’s schooled himself into not yelling at Hahn. Still, he clicks his window back to his desktop before swivelling in his chair to glare at Hahn. 

It’s the skepticism in his voice that really grates on Sokka. 

“Yes,” he says in a terse voice. Then, because Sokka can’t resist a challenge. “You think we can’t?”

“I think it’s naive to rely on it,” he shrugs, as if Sokka hasn’t been working his ass off to make sure that they don’t rely on just that. “You’re better off securing Northern district leader votes for Chief Hakoda.”

Sokka sets his pen down. It’s an argument they’ve had before. About what policy should focus on and where compromise can be made, and how they can support Northern District Leaders candidates who will vote for Hakoda. Always disagreeing, because it always boils down to one thing, that Hahn never fails to point out.

“The South is too small to make a difference.”

“Then why are you on this campaign, Hahn?!” Sokka exclaims, finally, slamming the laptop screen shut as the campaign’s policy office suddenly goes deadly quiet. Boiling point has been coming for weeks now, and he knows if it was anyone else he'd stop to watch it too. “What do you want here, apart from to rescue us from ourselves with your fucking saviour complex?”

Hahn scoffs, rolling his eyes. “I don’t have a _saviour complex._ I’m just pointing out that you’re being unreasonable!”

“No, you want to talk, let’s talk! Let’s talk about how irresponsible Earth Kingdom tech leads to sea level rise and how that flooded Whale Tail Island last year. Let’s talk about the Northern Companies who let that happen. Or how about the complete gutting of the Southern Heritage Act last time there was a Northern Chief? Or why not the fact that, even though our populations are equal in every single way, the North still gets more district votes, because they set up the system, and they set it up to favour themselves.”

“It’s the way things work! It’s the best way to-”

“Yeah maybe that was the case, a hundred fucking years ago!” Sokka is aware that he is yelling, but he’s too furious to care. Hahn doesn’t look so smug anymore but it doesn’t help. “How about we move with the times? Do I need to remind you that you’re on the campaign team for a Southern Chief?”

Hahn says nothing else. Glaring petulantly at Sokka, whose chest is heaving. It’s too much, and he decides he needs to be just about anywhere else. His dad’s his boss. He’ll understand. Hopefully.

So Sokka grabs his coat and shoves his files back into his bag, and storms out the door. Phone at his ear and ringing out to Zuko before he’s even out of the building. There’s no answer. Sokka curses under his breath. 

There’s too much noise in his head.

“Sokka!” there’s a yell from behind him, and he turns to see Yue still sliding her sleeves into the arms of her coat as she chases after him, a worried look on her face. “I heard what happened, are you alright?”

“No!” Sokka snaps, then softens immediately when she flinches. He drags a hand through his hair. “Sorry. Sorry, I didn’t mean to yell.” 

Yue shakes her head. “It’s fine.” 

It doesn’t feel fine, but that just could be the buzzing electricity under his skin. The one urging him to do something. Anything. Work out what he wants from life. Everyone’s voices going round and round in his head, urging him to work out _what’s next?_ Katara’s voice telling him he’s burning out. His Dad’s voice, urging him to be his usual brilliant self. Come up with a plan. Come up with _something._

But Sokka doesn’t have a plan. He just has an impulse. 

He pulls out his phone.

“Sokka, what are you going to do?”

“Nothing,” _yet,_ he thinks but doesn’t say, as he taps the words **_`law aptitude test centers harbour city'_ ** into his worldnet search bar _._ He turns and gives Yue a weak smile as the results load up. “Just… promise you’ll never date Hahn?”

Caldera is sweltering in the height of summer. The bright, midday sun hangs in the sky as he rolls through the streets, incredibly grateful for the air conditioning. Glad that he can blame the flush of his cheeks on the weather and not Zuko’s hand brushed up against his on the seat between them, neither of them daring to intertwine their fingers.

“Oh spirits, this is absolutely ridiculous,” Sokka says, getting out of the satomobile at the ground of the Caldera cup. 

"If you make one joke about it having been an honor to meet someone, I'll have you thrown out," Zuko promises, hand on his elbow after he gets out of the satomobile behind him, a firm but gentle guide before he drops it as Ty Lee and Mai lead them to a side entrance of the stadium.

It’s further out from the Royal Caldera district than he’s ever been before, but there are red lanterns lining the streets and alleys outside the stadium, and it’s all so very _Fire Nation._ He sort of wants to make a joke about honor to _someone_ just to spite Zuko now. 

“I _meant_ the heat,” Sokka says, “But hey, if you want me to make fun of the people I can do that too? Where’s that minister for-,”

“ _No,_ Sokka,” Zuko rolls his eyes, but Sokka can tell he’s hiding a smile. 

Inside the stadium, there is a buzz of noise. And posters of the international pro-bending champions set to battle it out at one of the world’s most famous bending tournaments. One of them he recognises well enough as Toph. Sokka’s never actually seen her bend, so he was more than a little excited when the invitation showed up, even if it’s an incredibly thin excuse for a weekend off in the middle of an election campaign. He wouldn’t turn it down though. 

After Ember Island, he’s not sure he could. 

But he’s not _thinking_ about what all of that means, because when he does, it does funny things to his heart. Zuko’s not brought up the play or the words exchanged between them there in his emails. He’s doing a better job than Sokka at keeping it casual right now. So Sokka’s going to do what he does best when it comes to oogie-feelings-stuff: ignore it, and plan for it when it actually becomes a problem. 

“So, wait, where’s Aang?” he asks, as they follow Suki and Ty Lee up a much nicer stairwell than Sokka’s used to seeing at stadiums. 

“Couldn’t get the weekend off.”

“Hang on, am I just here as an Aang surrogate?” 

“Yes, absolutely,” Zuko deadpans, “I’d definitely have more fun if he was here instead of you.”

Sokka pouts, “I knew it!”

“Shut up,” Zuko says, fondly, as he guides Sokka out into the Royal Box. Their seats front and center, which Sokka is once again trying _not_ to think about too much. Zuko has already plastered on the blank, public figure face that Sokka used to hate by the time Lu Ten shows up. 

Beside him, Zuko immediately tenses. 

Behind Lu Ten, Cixi appears, and from the barely concealed glare she gives Sokka, he can’t help but wonder if she’s not quite forgiven him for the wedding. Not that he can blame her, it was a lot of good food ruined.

“Cousin,” Lu Ten greets warmly, seemingly unaware of the tension that has seeped into Zuko at his appearance. “It’s nice to see you, you’ve been busy?” 

“Yes.” 

Sokka almost drops his head into his hands from second-hand awkwardness on Zuko’s behalf. But clearly this reaction is not too extraordinary, because Lu Ten barely sighs, before turning a smile to Sokka. Not warm, but more the kind of friendliness reserved for strategic, political allies. 

He hadn’t really expected court-worthy expressions at a pro-bending match, but he returns a political smile of his own.

“Sokka,” Lu Ten says, reaching out a hand, which Sokka shakes firmly. “Good to see you again. I’m sure you remember my wife? Princess Cixi?”

“Of course,” he nods to her, then belatedly remembers, “your Highness.” 

She sniffs, before taking her seat and gazing out imperiously over the stadium. The awkwardness might be trying to kill him. Sokka keeps his smile in place though, laughs slightly, as Lu Ten turns back to Zuko. 

“So, are you excited to see Toph today?” Sokka hears Zuko let out an exasperated huff of breath at Lu Ten’s question. “I heard the two of you had quite the time on Ember Island.” 

Sokka almost snorts, because while Toph and Zuko certainly both did have a time on that trip, they were definitely separate times, which seems to be far from what Lu Ten is implying. But as amusing as he finds the implications - it’s _Toph and Zuko,_ of all people - from the tired look on his face, he can tell Zuko’s probably had this conversation half a hundred times before.

“Yes, Lu Ten, I’m excited to see Toph,” he says finally, “because she’s my _friend.”_

“Exactly! You get on, don’t you?” Lu Ten says, and Sokka can see it, that genuine attempt to be a good older cousin - maybe some kind of surrogate older brother - but he can also see how it completely misses the mark of what Zuko needs. Of who Zuko is. “I’m just saying, one of these days you might want to start thinking about settling down.” 

Lu Ten gives a good natured chuckle, but it’s tight under the glare Zuko shoots his way.

“Oh come on, Zuko,” he says, “I never said it _had_ to be Toph. It's just that you know how happy it would make my father if you started seeing a nice girl. If you could just-,” 

“If I could just _what?”_ Zuko’s eyes flash as he snaps his head round to meet his cousin. His neutral, princely mask slipping just a fraction with the hot words. Zuko’s quick temper winning out over his self-preservation. 

“Zuko,” Lu Ten sighs, tired of an argument he’s clearly had before, “all I’m saying is-,” 

“Now, now, boys. You look like you’re about to start a bending match in the royal box, and I know you wouldn’t do that without inviting _me_.”

The tension flickers, as Azula appears. A vision in a tight, red dress and pointed sunglasses halfway down her nose. She’s observing her cousin and her brother with a calculated expression, but her appearance gives Zuko the chance he needs. 

“Excuse me for a moment,” he says in a low voice before standing and brushing his way past Sokka and Azula and back down the stairs.

“What did you do?” Azula rounds on her cousin, stepping into the box and keeping her voice a low hiss and her face surprisingly neutral for all the venom in it. 

“Nothing,” Lu Ten protests, “Zuko’s just angry with me at the moment. Though Agni only knows _why.”_

He rolls his eyes, and Cixi gives him a comforting pat on the arm. Sokka thinks Lu Ten isn’t really the one that needs comforting here. 

Sokka follows Zuko, making his excuses to the rest of the Royal family, after ten painful minutes of silence. He finds Zuko in the rooms the stadium set aside for the Royals and their guests.

“Uh, buddy?” he says, cautiously, hovering a few feet away from Zuko. Zuko pulls himself out of glaring at the programme he’s been shredding between his fingers. He looks at Sokka with dark eyes, but not anger.

“Sokka,” he says, and his voice comes out a little raspier than usual. Like he’s fighting hard to contain a storm. Sokka doesn’t comment on it. 

“Do you want-,”

“Would you like a tour?” Zuko cuts him off, and there’s that _something_ in his tone. Sokka’s eyes widen, but he nods, mutely. If Zuko wants to unleash his inner storms, with Sokka’s help, Sokka’s not going to protest. 

Zuko throws a glance towards the tinted windows, before standing up and reaching for Sokka’s hand. Sokka takes it, and lets Zuko lead him to the door in the corner of the room, pulling them down a narrow corridor until he finds a little sideroom he’s looking for, nothing special, but enough out of the way that they won’t easily be found if someone comes looking. 

Zuko pushes him up against the door, reversing a move that Sokka’s pulled so many times, and he can’t help the gasp that escapes him in surprise as Zuko fills his personal space with the scent of jasmine and a wicked smirk. Sokka leans forward to kiss him, but Zuko pulls back. In the mood to tease. 

“You started to ask me something about what I want,” he breathes, eyes flickering to Sokka’s mouth, “You always make me want to do things that I should _not_ want to do.” 

Sokka runs his tongue over dry lips. Challenging, “Oh yeah, like what?”

“Things like this.” Zuko’s lips are on his, and his fingers are pressing into his hips with an almost bruising grip and his leg is pushed firmly in between Sokka’s as he pulls him closer by his belt loops. The kiss is rough; teeth and tongue and deep as Zuko pushes against him. Sokka winds his hands into Zuko’s neatly top-knotted hair. Matching the intensity and not letting himself worry about whether or not he’s ruining it. 

Zuko doesn’t seem to care, which feels important for some reason. 

Hands move from the grip on Sokka’s hips to tug hard at the front of his trousers. “Fuck me,” Zuko breathes into his mouth, and Sokka lets out a choked off moan. 

“Yes,” he says, instantly, “if you’re-”

He’s cut off from checking if Zuko is sure about having sex approximately three rooms away from where half of his family is watching an international tournament, by the feeling of Zuko reaching up to pull a hand from his hair as he pulls something out of his pocket with his other hand. He presses it into Sokka's. A sachet of lube. Yeah. Zuko’s sure.

Sokka uses the hand still intertwined in Zuko’s hair to pull him down into another searing kiss, and Zuko lets him for a moment, before he breaks away and turns in Sokka’s grip. His back to Sokka’s chest as he lifts his arm to grip Sokka’s hair, and pulls him down to kiss the exposed skin of his neck. 

It’s about control, Sokka realises with sudden clarity, as Zuko is more obvious with his wants and his needs than Sokka can ever remember him being. Clear in his firm directions of how he wants Sokka to touch him and press into him. In a broom closet in the back of the Caldera Stadium. It’s another reckless, sexual fantasy lived out a hairsbreadth from discovery, just like so many of their others, but it’s important to Zuko. Sokka can feel that in the way his fingers wrap around Sokka’s where both their hands are braced against the door. 

Zuko is doing this because he wants to do it, and not because the world is pulling him one way or another and telling him what to be. So he helps Zuko through it, just as Zuko’s emails and even the memory of Zuko’s hands on his body and lips on his have helped him through so much.

They stay pressed close against each other after, and Zuko smiles as he twists back around and let’s Sokka’s head drop against his shoulder. The two of them catching their breath as they come back to themselves. 

“Do you want to go back to the palace with me?”

“Won’t Toph mind?” Sokka murmurs into Zuko’s shoulder. “We can’t just leave, we’re supposed to support her.”

Zuko shakes his head, before turning to press a kiss behind Sokka’s ear. “She’ll understand. She gets the family stuff better than most.”

He takes the time to try and neaten his hair, before they leave, but it’s as simple as that. Mai greets them at the exit with a team of Kyoshi Guards to keep them surreptitious as they get into the same satomobile to head back to the palace. Zuko texts Toph his apologies on the way. 

Zuko leads him through the long corridors of the palace, with wide open windows behind columns and drapes blowing softly in the Caldera breeze. The palace is more of a rabbithare warren than Sokka had expected last time he was here, and when they reach a courtyard - the one with the turtleduck pond he has only ever seen in Zuko’s photos - in the depths of it, Zuko promises they won’t be disturbed.

In the courtyard it’s peaceful. Quiet, apart from the music. A gentle melody, rising softly from the wireless on the veranda which overlooks onto the grass where Sokka rests his head in Zuko’s lap. He lets Zuko pull his hair loose from its wolftail. Weaving it back in the Fire Nation style with loose blossoms pulled from the flower patch beside them. 

“Can you play Pai Sho?” Zuko asks, after a long bout of soft, silent companionship and Sokka’s eyelids crack open, flickering upwards to look at Zuko. 

“It’s been a while, but yeah,” he sits up, and Zuko’s fingers slide through his hair as he goes. “You want a game?”

“Why not?”

There’s a board, in a compartment at the bottom of the tea chest Zuko gets from under the veranda, and Zuko explains that it’s his uncle’s. It was his uncle who taught him to play, after his mother’s death. When he still had the time for teaching Zuko board games.

“So…” Sokka moves a piece thoughtfully, “Lu Ten?”

Zuko frowns, moving his own rose piece in opposition to Sokka’s. “I don’t want to talk about him.” 

“I won’t make you,” Sokka says. It’s not who they are, he knows that. That no matter what they’ve done, and all the things they’ve said to each other, he’s not in love with Zuko and Zuko’s not in love with him. Their relationship is still a casual one, and he can’t press Zuko for secrets he doesn’t want to give. 

They move a few pieces in silence. Chasing each other round the board and towards the center, before Zuko sighs. 

“It’s just difficult,” he says softly, fiddling with a white lotus piece between his fingers. “He and my uncle they just- I still feel like they want me to be something I’m not. Something I _can’t_ be. It’s difficult to explain but I- One day. I’ll tell you, one day.” 

The promise of one day, even between the two of them, is still enough for now.

“Alright,” Sokka nods, easily. Easy acceptance is what Zuko needs. A firm recognition of who he is and what his boundaries are, over what anyone else may want, he sets a final piece in place, watching as Zuko’s face turns from kind of sad, to confused at his loss, to pouting up at Sokka. 

Sokka smiles brightly, “Hey, can you show me some jerkbending?”

Zuko laughs, short and breathy as he smiles widely at Sokka over the board. “I assume you don’t mean _jerkbending.”_

He raises his eyebrow with the innuendo, and Sokka smiles, lacing his fingers through Zuko’s where they’re resting against the grass. His hands are still warm.

"Well you can show me that later, if you like," he grins, "I've only ever seen you make sparks. I wanted to see what it's like. How different it is from waterbending."

Zuko only smiles fondly at his insatiable curiosity. 

“I’m not very good, you know?”

“Somehow I doubt that.”

Sokka is right to have his doubts. The way Zuko moves is fluid. Similar to the bending he’s seen all his life, but there’s a sharpness to it that waterbending lacks. The full-fisted punches which send a controlled trail of bright orange flame across the courtyard. The kicks that bring up sweeping walls of fire that dissipate when Zuko lands on his feet. 

And beneath all of that, the steadiness of Zuko’s breath. Calm and patient and determined as he weaves the flames through the air, easily as Sokka has seen him weave swords.

He has that same steady breath later, in his bed, as he and Sokka come together again. With a carefully practiced ease and the attention to detail that Sokka prides himself on. Soft skin against red silky sheets, and the smell of jasmine as Zuko’s hair tumbles loose from it’s knot. Chest hot and heart pounding under Sokka’s hands as he presses him into the bed. Fingers digging into Sokka’s arms as he shudders and wants and _needs._

Zuko needs him.

And it’s good, Sokka supposes, because he needs Zuko too. 

When Sokka’s on his private airship back to Harbour City, he can still feel the trail of Zuko’s sparking fingers up and down his arm. He reminds himself, for what seems like the millionth time lately, that this is just casual.

The first sign of things falling comes by the way of a speech from Zhao, reported in the international papers. A rally on one of the outer islands, and Zhao promising reform, and stronger leadership and a return to traditional Fire Nation values. The kind of things he hopes to work with the other Fire Nation Ministers to bring about before too long. _Long-lasting change and a return to prosperity._

It’s exactly the worst kind of thing, when Pakku jumps on it instantly with a response of his own. Waving it in the face of Southern supporters that he’s right. That this is exactly why they need strong leadership for the united Water Tribes, and that he is the answer.

When he texted Piandao to clarify Zhao’s statements about the Fire Nation cabinet, he was met with stony silence. Which is fine, if a little annoying. Piandao’s their strongest Fire Nation ally, realistically. The other sitting Republic City Fire Nation representatives are more likely to stay neutral or, apparently, side with Zhao rather than side against him in an argument like Piandao would. There was a hardly concealed leak that came out in _Republic City Times_ that one of the Fire Nation councillors was set to endorse Zhao, going a long way to his legitimacy. Another thorn in the side of Hakoda’s campaign.

Sokka’s still thinking, in the back of his mind, about the half of a conversation he overheard between Bato and the man, but he’s not been able to unpuzzle that one at all. 

It’s a gruelling time, the height of the campaign. The only reprieve from it all is that Hahn hasn’t talked to him about anything non-work related since their argument at the start of the month. That is actually sort of blissful. But between boat trips and airship flights and so many speeches there’s not a single weekend off to go do debauched and wonderful things in Zuko’s bed. The Caldera Cup is just a fleeting memory. 

It’s almost unbearable, when they realise they’re scheduled to miss each other by a matter of hours as Sokka and his family head to Republic City for the SWT Candidates conference. The neutral ground where both Tribes hold their conferences also happens to be the site of Toph, Zuko, and Aang’s latest philanthropic endeavour. The three of them in Republic City working on plans for a youth shelter there under the Bei Fong name. 

He’s still pouting a little, as he texts Zuko from their airship, preparing to land as Zuko waits for the airship that’s going to take him and Toph back to Caldera. Promising that they’ll see each other soon. 

In the seat opposite him, Suki is smiling into her own phone.

“I know, babe. I’ll see you soon… Love you too.” Sokka’s head whirls, eyes going wide with delight as his mouth forms into a shocked grin. Katara beside him is equally gobsmacked as Suki winces. Catching their gazes as she realises what they have overheard. She hangs up the phone and holds up a finger before Sokka can start in on a flurry of questions. 

“Don’t even ask, Sokka, I’m not telling you anything,” she huffs, frowning resolutely.

Katara recovers from the shock of this revelation first, however. She grins, dropping her voice, “Suki’s in _love,”_ she taunts, and Suki rolls her eyes. Katara laughs leaning forwards in her seat. 

“Come _on,_ Suki,” she says, “Just give us a clue? Are they nice? Are they Water Tribe? How did you meet?”

Katara, as always, can be relied upon to latch onto the most romantic details of any story. 

“I’m not telling you anything,” Suki laughs her off, “Katara if I tell you half the staff will know by tomorrow. And if I tell Sokka, they’ll know within the hour.” 

“Hey! I _can_ be discreet!”

Katara scoffs, before muttering in a low tone only the three of them can hear, “Oh yeah, how’s your boyfr-”

“He’s _not_ my boyf-”

“Everyone shut up a second!” Osha orders, and Katara and Sokka immediately stop their squabbling. Suki stops laughing. Hakoda is peering curiously at his secretary. They don’t look up from their phone, tapping furiously with a renewed look of fresh horror on their face. Another, agonising minute of silence drags on without them clarifying anything. 

“Osha,” Hakoda starts, “What-,” 

“It’s Piandao. Piandao endorsed Zhao for the Republic City seat.” 

“It’s absolutely _ridiculous,”_ Katara seethes, angrily pulling water between her fingers as a way to work out her stress. Forcing it to ice and back with her pent up rage as she paces across the hotel room. “How could he do this to us? How can he work in a building with Bato every day, and turn round and endorse that-” she cuts herself off with a muted scream of frustration. “I just can’t believe it.” 

Sokka agrees with her. But Sokka also feels oddly hollowed out by the revelation. 

He’s seen the video that got released barely two hours ago three times now. It makes him want to throw up. It makes him want to down an entire bottle of Cactus Juice just to scrub the memory of Piandao, a man he looked up to for Spirit’s sake, saying the words “ _Zhao is an honorable man and I’m delighted to endorse him for the Republic City Council Seat.”_

Sokka almost wants to cry.

His anger is quieter than Katara’s, as he tries to make sense of it. In his head, and outside of his head. How a man like Piandao, who Sokka has watched fight for poor families, and the disenfranchised, and everyone fucked over by a _traditional Fire Nation Government_ that Zhao represents, can turn around and support him. Support the type of person who would have preferred Zuko’s good-for-nothing father on the throne over a progressive like Iroh. It doesn’t make any sense.

“It doesn’t make any _sense,”_ he says as much to Katara. “I know Piandao. _Bato_ knows Piandao. I spent almost 40 hours a week in his offices that summer I- I- know his Lotus Noodle order by heart. He can’t- He wouldn’t _betray_ us. He wouldn’t betray his _people._ ” 

But he _did._

He did, and now his betrayal makes Hakoda look weak. Makes their whole campaign, and everything they’ve said about unity and progress look hollow and brittle and fruitless. All the worries, the threat of losing, the threat of everything falling apart, the ringing noise that brings to his ears, is too much to deal with in front of his little sister. 

“I’m going for a walk,” he says, sullenly, “I need to- I want to clear my head. I’ll see you in the morning.”

And he walks. Out the door, and past Suki who follows him at a close distance, cautious and comforting all at once. 

“Where are we going, Sokka?”

Sokka realises, almost too late, that they can’t exactly go wandering around Republic City at this time of night. Going out and getting lost, or drunk, or stupid the night before the Candidate’s conference is the last thing his campaign needs. But he needs to be somewhere that he’s not completely alone with his thoughts. 

“Is there a bar in the hotel?”

Suki nods.

It’s quiet, and there’s low, soft music playing in the background, but it’s enough. Enough for Sokka to order a single glass, and glare into it while he thinks about what he can do now. 

He wants an explanation. He wants his Dad to win the election. More than anything else, right now, he wants to call Zuko. Zuko who was in Republic City till a few hours ago, but is now probably halfway across an ocean, with no business answering his phone. Sokka’s just going to have to deal.

It’s not fair. 

None of this is fucking fair, and before he can sulk about that anymore, he slams his head against the bar. 

“Careful,” a low, familiar voice says beside him, “Don’t want to damage that with your thick skull. I think the repair costs would be classed as gross government spending.”

Sokka’s head snaps back up so fast that he almost gets whiplash. 

Stood beside him, looking for all the world as though he has every right to be there, balancing one arm on the bar as he leans against it, and the other hand wrapped around a glass of what looks like liquor, is Zuko. 

He glances over Zuko’s shoulder to Suki, who looks as utterly nonplussed at Zuko’s appearance as he is. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t really think this through,” Zuko says, pulling his attention back. He’s rubbing his free hand awkwardly at the back of his neck, Sokka can recognise it now as one of his nervous tics. “I can leave, if you want? I completely understand if I’m the last person you want to see.”

“No,” Sokka says, almost too quickly. He bites his lip for a second but, firm in his conviction, he shakes his head. It’s as though he has managed to conjure up Zuko just through horny longing and self-pity. He is not about to let him slip through his fingers. 

Swallowing hard, he tries again. “No, sorry, I was just… surprised, I suppose?” Zuko slides carefully into the barstool beside him, their knees brushing together. Innocent, and absolutely everything to Sokka. “Zuko… what are you _doing_ here?”

“I decided to stay in Republic City, after Aang and Toph left,” he admits, looking at his glass and not Sokka’s eyes. It’s almost annoying; he could do with some comfort from the warmth of Zuko’s gaze right now. Zuko just takes a heavy sip, “After the news broke. I knew you would- And I knew you would be here, so I thought I could… say hi?”

Sokka laughs, and he hates how sad the sound is, but it makes Zuko look up at him at last. Watching as he struggles not to lose his composure because _how_ is Zuko this thoughtful and this awkward all at once?

There’s a fleeting awareness that they both agreed this shouldn’t happen. Even for them it’s risky. With all eyes on Hakoda, and by extension Sokka, it’s practically asking to be caught. 

But Zuko is here, and Sokka still has that lump in his throat. The sickening feeling of Piandao’s betrayal twisting in his gut. Some things, Zuko, might be worth risking a little for if they can just make the awful feelings rattling around his body go away. So they finish their drinks together, and they head through the lobby much, _much_ farther apart than Sokka needs them to be. 

“Come on,” Zuko’s voice is low and soft as his hand brushes against Sokka’s waist for a fraction of a second as they step into the elevator. “Hopefully, this one won’t get stuck.”

They end up on the balcony, back in Sokka’s room. With the sounds of the city far below it’s easy to lose himself in the feeling of being surrounded by Zuko, and imagine another life where things are simpler. To allow himself to be folded into warm, strong arms, as they sit against the cool glass of the double doors, overlooking the skyline. 

“It just really fucking _hurts,”_ Sokka sighs, head dipping back against the crook of Zuko’s neck. “He was… He taught me so much. Almost everything about what it really means to do _this_ ," he gestures haphazardly at the city sprawling out before them. "He was _honest_ and a- a good fucking person and then he endorses- he turns round and says a man like Zhao should represent the Fire Nation. Represent _you._ It doesn’t make any fucking _sense._ ”

“It doesn’t, you’re right,” Zuko murmurs, “I’m sorry.”

“I just… I wanted to be like him.” Sokka’s voice is smaller than he means it to be, “He fights for the people he represents, and I- I never saw him cave, or back down when something mattered. He was doing the right things for the right reasons and I-” Sokka swallows thickly again. “I wanted to be _good_. And now what if I’m not? What if I’m just… destined to fail? Become another cog in the machine of shitty politicians who don’t make a difference?” 

“Sokka, you are _good_. And you have always been your own person. You'll always be Sokka. My-” he cuts off whatever he was thinking, but Sokka doesn't question it when he continues. "Just Sokka," he runs a hand softly down the side of Sokka’s face. “One man from the fire nation doesn’t change who you are.”

 _You did._ Sokka thinks, but doesn’t dare say. Because that’s an entirely different issue. He just looks at Zuko instead, who feels like the only harbour in a storm right now. Leaning up, he presses his lips softly to Zuko’s and Zuko kisses back. Soft and steady and reassuring in his touches as he has always been with his emails.

So he loses himself in the taste of smoke on Zuko’s tongue and pretends like everything’s fine, even though it isn’t. Let’s Zuko push him onto the mattress, and allows himself to be seen through Zuko’s eyes. As just _Sokka_.

Zuko shakes him awake with a hiss, the morning after. Sokka’s halfway through waving him off, when he hears it too. The pounding on the door. Easy to mistake for a pounding head brought on by a stress headache, that even the night spent with Zuko couldn’t work out. 

Zuko. 

Zuko who spent the night. 

Someone at the Door. 

The Conference.

“Sokka Qanniq, you better be alive in there so I can kill you myself!” Osha yells through the door, audible even over the loud thuds of their fist against the door. “Now is not the time for you to start being late, you little shit!”

Beside him, Zuko is sitting up straight in bed, frozen. “What do we do?” he hisses, when Sokka whirls his head to look at him. His eyes are wide with panic, and his hair sticking out of the disheveled braid in all sorts of unruly ways. 

Sokka does not have an answer. 

It is this, combined with the fear of Osha’s wrath, that drives him to come up with maybe one of his worst ideas yet, as he scrambles to his feet, and drags Zuko with him. Eyes frantically searching the room for some kind of genius solution. As if there’s any good way to hide a foreign prince in your hotel room. 

So he does what any sensible, 22 year old genius would do, and shoves Zuko towards the curtains covering the door to the balcony. Zuko gives him an exasperated look, as he tugs his pants and his shirt into his arms, barely getting his legs through them as he shivers in the breeze from the morning. 

“Just, stay here, I’ll get rid of them,” Sokka promises, before planting a chaste kiss on Zuko’s cheek and yanking the curtain to cover him, before he darts back towards the door. He’s barely pulled his own trousers on before the time they’ve got it open with their 'I work for the Chief so I get a master key' key. 

As they come face to face, Sokka gulps.

They have never looked more like they want to murder him. Shoulders set as they storm into his room and take all of a second to work out what’s going on. From the strewn sheets, and the two abandoned glasses on the table, back to Sokka’s flushed and guilty face. 

“I’m not kidding this time, Sokka, who is she?” they snap, “I know it’s not Yue because she is ready for the meeting you’re supposed to show your sorry face at in ten minutes!”

“It’s no one,” he says, pleading with the spirits that he only half believes in that this is enough of an answer. “It’s no one, Osha, I-”

There is a sneeze from the balcony.

_Shit._

Osha shoots him one look, before stalking forward to the window and yanking it aside, to reveal a half-dressed Zuko, who has made a valiant attempt at surreptitiously buttoning up his shirt behind the curtain. Shock doesn’t fully have the time to register for them, before Zuko sneezes again. 

They take a few careful steps back, silent and _oh, Spirits. A_ silent and still Osha is never good because that means the calm before the storm. And Sokka has always known that this was going to be a shitstorm when he told Osha about it. 

As they round on both him and Zuko, Sokka darts forward to place himself in between the two of them. “I can explain!” he says, holding his hands up. Zuko, when he glances back round at him, has gone quite pale. Somehow, Sokka doesn’t think it’s the cold from the balcony.

“Start. Talking.” Osha punctuates with gritted teeth. 

“Well, you see, Zuko and I- Prince Zuko, of the Fire Nation-”

“Sokka if you start rambling right now, I’m going to murder you!” Osha snarls, “Why is he here? Why are you _here?!_ ”

They direct the last bit at Zuko, still looking pale, with narrowed eyes and a harsh tone, that makes Sokka reach down and grab his hand in an attempt to offer some comfort, or protection. Osha’s eyes follow the movement. The tenderness in it. A vein flickers in her forehead. 

“This isn’t just- You’re _friends,”_ they realise, with something like dread. Sokka can’t imagine that would have been their reaction to finding out about their friendship a month or so ago. But now it comes with the realisation that they’re something more than friends as well. Something potentially catastrophic and damning to the campaign they're helping run. “Spirits, I set this up to _avoid_ an international incident, and you’re-”

“Osha, we’ve been doing this since New Year’s. It’s fine-” And once again, he finds himself wishing he’d think just once before opening his big mouth. Behind him, he can only imagine Zuko looks appalled when he hears him drop his head into his hands. 

The expression on Osha’s face goes still, and cold, and frighteningly calm.

“Seven. Months.” They raise an eyebrow, but it’s not a question. “You mean to tell me, you’ve been screwing the _Prince of the Fire Nation_ for almost the entirety of this race. This race that’s currently on a margin so razor thin I could skin a seal-otter with it. And you’re telling me it’s _fine?”_

“Uh...”

“You bring him to the _conference hotel_ the day after a prominent Fire Nation Councillor publicly screwed _all of us_ over - a fact I shouldn’t have to remind you of - and you think that’s okay?”

“Well, I didn’t-”

“Who else knows about this?”

Sokka looks guiltily at Zuko, and decides he’s not going to drop any of Zuko’s people in it. It’s not Osha’s business who knows from that side.

“Katara and Yue,” he admits softly, “And Suki, because she’s usually my guard, so-”

“Stop, stop, stop,” they hold a hand up, “You mean to tell me not only have you been doing things for _seven months_ that are surely going to give me a stress aneurysm, but you’re also telling me that the _Chief doesn’t know?”_

Sokka grimaces.

“Don’t tell him,” he pleads, and Osha’s eyebrows, if possible, retreat further up their forehead. Before they can scoff out another sharp reprimand, Sokka cuts them off. “No, it’s just. He- I haven’t told him I like guys. And I don’t want him to hear that from his secretary.” 

Something unreadable flickers in Osha’s gaze but they give a terse nod, before turning to Zuko.

“Do I look like I’m even the slightest bit afraid of the Fire Nation, _your Highness?”_ Head to toe, they do not. Eyes blazing, they look rather like they would enjoy nothing more than to take on the entire Fire Nation with nothing but their bare hands. Between Piandao and Zuko, Sokka supposes that’s fair. Zuko shakes his head jerkily. “That’s because I’m _not_ . So you’re going to get your sorry ass on the next airship back to Caldera. And if I see you within five yards of another campaign event without good reason, Princess Azula will find herself an only child. Are we _clear?”_

They nod, satisfied that they’ve successfully scared at least Zuko into line, before turning to Sokka.

“And you,” they say, “When we get back to Harbour City, you are dealing with this.” 

And it’s just like gravity. They were always going to hit the ground eventually.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i believe someone requested a cliffhanger? it's just a lil mini one but there you go :D 
> 
> Also shout out to my man sokka for signing his thirst emails "warmly".


	9. Fired and Forged

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hakoda learns things. Zuko writes things. Sokka realises things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> buckle up everybody ;)

When Sokka was younger, barely seven, he used to sneak out over the ice fields at the edge of the city, not far from the house they grew up in. Head into the vast emptiness and watch the stars with a child’s wonder, before he’d properly got the hang of using them to find his way. The memory that always stands out most, is the time Katara followed him, into a blizzard, and he got the both of them lost. It had taken half a day for the search party to find them. Hakoda and Kya and Bato had never yelled at him. Hakoda had sat him down, gently, and explained very carefully why he was never to do it again. All the while he had this look on his face. Gentle furrowed brow. Softness tinged with disappointment. But primarily, concern. 

That’s the look that’s on his face now. 

Sokka should really just get into it.

Lunch would have been more normal, but he’s never been one for thinking super rationally when he’s under pressure. It’s always  _ do _ first,  _ think _ later; book a meeting room to tell your dad your sleeping with the Prince of the Fire Nation, instead of tell him you’ve got a kind-of-sort-of boyfriend casually, over some nice arctic hen.

“Sokka, Osha gave us an hour, you’re going to have to say something eventually.” His dad finally breaks the ice. Sokka can’t actually remember the last time he was silent this long in a meeting room. 

It’s unnerving.

“I, uh, right, yeah, words. I can use those.” He says it mostly to himself, but his dad looks perplexed. He’s just going to do this, he’s going to rip the band-aid off. “So, basically, I’ve realised I like men. As well as women.”

Hakoda’s expression brightens with relief, too soon before Sokka’s really  _ finished, _ and he merely laughs. “Spirits, Sokka, you had me worried! That’s it? You know I would never-”

“And I’m kind of seeing Prince Zuko!”

There’s a heavy beat after he blurts it out, and his father’s eyebrows knit back together, and the smile slides sideways off his father’s face, as comprehension seems to dawn on him. The wheels turn in his head the same way they usually do in Sokka’s. It… maybe wasn’t the best way to do it, but for all the times he’s gone over this conversation in his head since Osha insisted he tell his dad about his potentially-campaign-ruining affair with a foreign prince, he’s not been able to come up with a way to soften the blow.

“Prince… Zuko?”

“Yeah.”

“The third in line to the throne of the Fire Nation?”

“That’s him.”

“Not someone else?”

“No, Dad. Prince Zuko of the Fire Nation.”

“But you… He… You didn’t get on?” he frowns, “Or, wait is this why you’ve been doing all those international things?”

“I still care about international relations. I mean, you could even say I care more than ever about international relations?” He tries to joke, but it falls flat over the look his dad is giving him. Sokka can count on one hand the number of times his jokes haven’t landed with his dad. 

Sokka hunches his shoulders, awkward and unable to meet Hakoda’s curious gaze. The one telling him now isn’t the time for jokes and that he should start at the beginning. Telling his dad he liked men was always going to be the easy part of this. It was just…  _ Zuko.  _ So, Sokka clears his throat and tries again. “So, when Osha sent me over to Caldera towards the end of last year- Not that this is Osha’s fault, they were actually really pissed when they found out at the Conference, which you... already know- Anyway Zuko and I, we- There was texting and- then New Year’s he kissed- then-”

Sokka can feel himself rambling. Spinning fifty half finished sentences, not taking his eyes off the table, not willing to risk looking up and being thrown further off course. 

“Take a deep breath, Sokka,” his dad cuts in, cautiously, “Just… Tell me what’s going on. In as few words as possible.”

“I’ve been dating Zuko since the Tribes’ Dinner with the Fire Nation.”

It’s the first time he’s said it as a full sentence like that. Finally, he looks up at his dad. Only to shift uncomfortably under the scrutinising gaze that meets him. 

He’s always been very alike to his dad. The two of them working in the same ways and going through puzzles and problems a mile a minute. It’s because of this that he can practically see the cogs whirring in his dad’s brain.

Eventually, he says, “I’m starting to understand why Osha set the whole hour aside.”

His dad is frowning. His dad is frowning, and it’s Sokka’s fault and he actually kind of hates it. And then they start talking about it. Sokka’s exploration of his own sexuality with a foreign monarch. All the moral and ethical potholes he’s already blundered through. Sokka counts it bottom three on conversations he’s had with his dad, alongside the one where he told Sokka his mother died and the time he sat him down and explained sex. By the time they start discussing any financial expenses that could link the campaign to his illicit affair, Sokka’s considering finding the nearest ice hole and throwing himself in it.

Hakoda sends off an email to Osha, halfway through the meeting, after clearing up the worst of it. And they promise to get Sokka up to date on all the appropriate paperwork. Sokka doesn’t think his relationship - if it can be called that, in the traditional, romantic sense - should need paperwork. But Osha’s response is practically gleeful, with the promise to make him suffer through it in the subtext. And then it’s done. He’s told his dad. 

His dad who might not be unreservedly happy for him, but he’s not mad either. 

“I trust you, son,” Hakoda says, hands crossing in front of him on the table between them. “I’m not going to tell you to be anything less than what you are, and I won’t forbid you from seeing him.”

Sokka’s relieved, that at least, he’s not going against his dad’s wishes. His dad is looking at him expectantly though, and Sokka gives an understanding nod.

“But,” he goes on, “this  _ is  _ a big deal, Sokka. This isn’t like Yue, or one of the boys from the campaign office. This is something you have to think long and hard about if you want it. You are putting yourself, your career, and the entire chieftaincy in danger here. I need you to understand the gravity of what you’re doing. If you’re with Zuko, that stays with you forever, even if he doesn’t.”

The silence in the air hangs heavy on his dad’s words. He doesn’t like his dad to be so serious, though he’s become plenty used to seeing it over the years. Sokka’s heart seems to have stopped, because he can’t feel it beyond the lump in his throat that’s stopping him from responding.

_ A forever decision.  _ Sokka’s not good at those. He second guesses. He doubts. He wonders. Forever decisions are for whoever Sokka is a decade from now. When he knows where his life is and what he’s going to be. Up until this year he’s known every hurdle in his path, from his father’s expectations to the complexities of the job. But everything is up in the air now, and the gravity of  _ forever decisions _ holds him swaying in place.

He’s not sure what he wants, anymore. 

Then, his dad brings him crashing back to the reality of the situation. “You’re going to have to come off the campaign, son.” 

The words cut through Sokka like an ice dagger. Snapping him back into focus, as he pulls his gaze from the middle distance to his dad’s apologetic face.

“Dad, no, I-,”

“I’m sorry, Sokka,” and he sounds it, but it doesn’t make it  _ better.  _ Sokka needs to be on the campaign. He needs to not be a fuck up. “You’re well aware that relations with the Fire Nation can be tense at the best of times. Between Piandao and Zhao, the Northern candidates are just waiting for something like this to break, and give them the opportunity to pounce. I can’t have you running point on policy for me if that happens.”

It stings far more than Sokka is willing to admit, even if it makes sense. How can he be trusted to remain impartial on foreign policy if he’s hiding a relationship with a foreign prince? How could any voter be expected to trust him, if that’s the case? But it stings, that his happiness in one aspect of his life is sacrificed for another, and that the one dealing this particular blow is his dad.

Sokka’s not good enough. 

No. He is. That’s not what this means. He is good enough, he  _ is.  _ This isn’t about him, it’s much bigger and somewhere, beneath all the hurt, he’s aware of that. But right now, it does  _ hurt.  _ And when his dad asks if he understands, all he can offer is a hollow nod. 

“Right..” Hakoda says, clearing his throat, and Sokka can’t bring himself to look up and see if his dad looks guilty or not about the move. If he’s considered what cutting him off from one of the only things keeping him grounded in the storm will do to his eldest son. “Anyway, I, suppose the last thing is. Well, I know we’re still working on improving inclusive sex and relationship education, and we didn’t really address this when  _ we  _ had the talk – which is actually pretty foolish, considering, but I want you to have all the information you need about being safe when you’re having interco-,”

Oh that’s a change in the conversation that Sokka does  _ not  _ want to go through. 

“ _ Okay, thanks, Dad!”  _ Sokka is out of his chair in an instant, cheeks flaming as he doesn’t even manage to look his father in the eye on the way out, hearing him break into laughter. Calling after him.

“I’m just looking out for you, Sokka!”

**this bitter work**

> Sokka <s-okka@swt45.com>  
>  11:48 AM  
>  to Zuko  
>  see (1) attachment: [Z_Ref.doc](.)

My Royal Sunshine,

Being the secret nerd you are, I’m sure I don’t need to check if you’ve read the letters between Avatar Roku and Firelord Sozin. Given that, between the two of them, they brought almost the entire world to war, and one of them committed a genocide and was generally an imperialist piece of shit: they are not the best people to copy. Hopefully, you won’t let me die in a fiery volcano one day, that would be a bit of a jerk move, and I’ve recently learned you’re not actually that much of a jerk.

I apparently am, because people who aren’t jerks don’t get fired from their first proper campaign jobs. But you win some you lose some. Maybe it’s for the best, and it’s just better to call it quits before I failed. Maybe people like Hahn are right, and I’m just not cut out for this.

Anyway, during all my wallowing and going through the stuff Dad had brought back from my desk, I found some old papers on Fire Lord Sozin and all those dumbass old Fire Nation laws. You probably already know this, being you, but apparently part of the whole reason Sozin did that was because he Totally had a thing with his good buddy Roku? Anyway, one of the papers (see attached) referenced this letter from Roku, and I guess this part of it made me think of you. Or rather, us.

_ This bitter work is all consuming. This world that wants so much and is so much, I almost hate it. This burden of mine, that drags me so far afield until I am all but consumed by it. The world wants so much that I do not know if I can give it. You’re the exception, to whom I know I would give anything. _

Like I said, got me thinking about us, and the course of our lives. The great effort to change the future. The push and pull of it all, like the tides, and how you understand the burden of what we’re going through better than anyone else I’ve ever met. 

The future is ours, buddy.

Your disaster,

Sokka

* * *

**Re: this bitter work**

> Zuko <zsozin@calderaemail.com>  
>  12:32 PM  
>  to Sokka

Baby,

First off, you’re not a jerk, and I’m so sorry for costing you that job. I had no business showing up at the conference, and I’m sorry for what I cost you. Know that if you want to uncomplicate things, I won’t hold it against you. But you can't quit because you're afraid you might fail. You have to try every time, and it’s so incredible to see how hard you try.

Also I can’t believe you actually attached a reference sheet to that. You’re ridiculous, and I don’t feel like I tell you enough. But yes, I have read the letters between Sozin and Roku. Technically, we’re distantly related. Moreover, and a little beside the point, I distinctly remember someone sticking their tongue down my throat against Roku’s painting in the Southern Water Tribe Palace’s Hall of Avatars.

Roku may have loved Sozin, but perhaps the more eloquent pair by far were Rangi and Kyoshi. Kyoshi at least seemed somewhat able to express her feelings, even if Rangi was not. Perhaps it is an unfortunate Fire Nation trait to be so bound up in our own honor, that we cannot always rightly express our feelings for those we care for.

So yes, the words of others are good, but I think after everything I owe you words of my own. You deserve to know how I’ve not spent a night thinking of anything but your body since I last saw you. I close my eyes and I can taste the honey on your lips from when you kissed me after the dinner. Everything in me longs for even the phantom touch of you. You are filled with a lightness that lifts me, and I ache just to be around you again. 

Still, I think Kyoshi managed it well enough:

_ I long for you, darling, in your absence. I keep your letter as close to my heart as I would keep you, so close the spirits could not hope to separate us again, and I sleep to be reunited with you in dreams. _

Yours,

Zuko

* * *

**Re: this bitter work**

> Sokka <s-okka@swt45.com>  
>  17:24 PM  
>  to Zuko

Sunshine,

At this point, I can’t uncomplicate things. Don’t be stupid and try and make this easier by acting like removing you from my life will automatically make this simple, you overdramatic, poetic dumbass. You were there when I needed you, and I can't tell you how much I appreciate it.

Also "technically we're distantly related" is the funniest way to say you're a direct descendant of them both, however far along the line you are. Tell me another one. Your jokes are my second favourite thing about you, after your ass.

I promise I won't give up, but I suppose that stuck here with nothing to do, I'm just thinking a lot about identity as well as everything else. Katara keeps telling me not to lose myself, but I don't think I really know who I am. Do you ever feel like that? Do you know who you are?

There’s this thing that I got taught to do when I was a kid, you’re supposed to just be able to feel your way around - out on the sea ice. You use the horizon, you see. And the stars, and the winds. But you find points on your horizon and you direct yourself using them. Some people are really good at it. When they describe it, you can picture the place you’re going; even if you'd never been that way before. You make me feel that way. Like I know where I'm going, even without all the rest. 

I really fucking miss you, and I want to see you soon. There's this place north of Republic City, the Abbey. It's just secluded beach homes up there, and Katara, Yue and I go for a weekend every year to stay with Bato. If you can get to Shu Jing, we're sailing up in a couple of weeks. We'll pick you up on the way?

Please say yes.

See you soon?

Sokka

PS. So I can kind of guess your thoughts on it, but seeing you write like that, I'm always reminded of poetry. So here’s a haiku, I like those, if you didn't know and I feel like it kind of fits everything, right now

_ by Mayuzumi Madoka _

_ Wanting to see him,  
wanting to be with him, I  
step out on thin ice ... _

* * *

**Re: this bitter work**

> Zuko <zsozin@calderaemail.com>  
>  2:32 AM  
>  to Sokka

Sokka,

Am I your horizon, then?

Personally, when I was a kid, I had a lot of time to think. Almost too much, if we’re being honest. I don’t think I would say that I know who I am. But I’ve been lost before, and I know how it feels to try and find your way back. 

For someone who proclaims to be a writer, I’m not doing a good job at putting this into words, am I? If you’ll allow me, I’d rather sum it up in a way that I find easier.

From what fire storms are born,   
I could not say.   
I know only that, of a burning fire,   
I too was harshly borne.   
The journey too perilous   
And mem’ry too bitter  
To trouble you with, my darling.

You who knows me softly,  
and truly, a calm water,  
To soothe my charred heart.  
I would not burden you  
With the ashes of my past  
Though I know now  
That you would take them.

The questions: Who are you?  
What do you want?  
I am hurt and hammered   
Bruised and battered  
Fired and forged  
A phoenix born anew  
Risen against the embers 

Since I have known you,  
And now can dream   
Of knowing you further,  
I will say this  
I would be devastated,  
To have to let you go.

I can get to Shu Jing. Agni knows, I miss you too much already, so yes, I’ll join you if you’re sure that’s what you want. 

Yours, in words and more,

Zuko

PS. Of course you like Haiku, I should have known. Lovers in the Fire Nation used to exchange poetry, you know?

From Wú Zǎo for Ch’ing Lin

_ Vast mists cover the Five Lakes.  
My dear, let me buy a red painted boat  
And carry you away _

* * *

"Katara, light of my life, my favourite little sister-,"

"Your only little sister."

"-when you have an epic awakening about your sexuality and gain the knowledge of how to make top tier playlists, you can have control of the speaker. Until then, Yue and I are in charge." With this, he holds out a hand for Yue to high five him, before tugging on the rope between his hands again, pulling the mainsail taut. They’re close to Shu Jing now, and Sokka’s excited. 

The salt breeze is whipping through his hair, and Katara and Yue are both laughing their way through a squabble about who gets to control the speaker, but he feels  _ young.  _ He feels free, and not tied up, in a way that he has been in so long. 

There’s something about the ocean, about open spaces, that Sokka has found comfort in. The boundless possibility. A space finally big enough for him, perhaps. The azure blue sky meets the sea around him, and in his eyeline there are the Fire Nation shores growing closer and closer. The wind brushes around him and as he sucks the air in, he realises he can properly  _ breathe _ .

He’s not thinking about any forever decisions that he has or hasn’t made. 

Not even when they sail smoothly into the docks at Shu Jing, and Zuko is waiting for him on the pier. There are Kyoshi Guards, not ones Sokka recognises, a few yards back, and Sokka knows they’re catching an airship to the Abbey to set up their secure perimeter, but across the ocean it can just be them.

“Permission to come aboard?” Zuko jokes, as Sokka drops a board for him. 

“Permission granted, Prince Jerkbender.” At the edge of the pier, Sokka sees one of Zuko’s Guards twitch at the name. Zuko just laughs, hoisting his weekend bag onto his back and stepping onto the deck, only to be immediately hugged by Katara and Yue. Both laughing, before they pull back. 

Sokka waits till they’re back out at sea, out of eyeshot from the shore, with Katara taking over the tiller before he wraps Zuko in a hug of his own. Close and firm and laughing as he breathes in the smell of cinnamon and jasmine and realises that they get to enjoy this. 

They get to just be. 

“Why’s it called the Abbey?” Zuko asks, when they’re about an hour out, the shoreline of the United Republic just comingproperly into view on the horizon. “Was it Air Nation?”

“No,” Yue says as she ties off a braid in her hair. “But there used to be an Abbey on the site a couple of hundred years ago. The beach houses are all in the shadow of the hill where the ruins are. It’s just what everyone calls the area.” 

Sokka leans his head against Zuko’s shoulder, where they’re sat pressed hip-to-hip, knee-to-knee, ankle-to-ankle. Their hands stretched out behind them and fingers intertwined. Zuko is on his boat. Zuko is with him. It’s barely sunk in.

“How long have you been coming out here?” he asks, head leaning fondly on top of Sokka’s.

“Bato bought it the year after- When he moved,” Katara autocorrects mid-sentence, before tilting her head back to keep taking in the sun from where she’s still steering the boat. “We’ve come here every summer since.” 

“Your Dad doesn’t come?”

“He used to,” Katara sighs, “At first. But since the Chieftaincy he’s come… once? I think?”

“What, were you worried about meeting him in an  _ official capacity, _ ” Sokka chuckles, nudging Zuko with his elbow. Zuko pouts, but Sokka leans in to steal it away with a kiss. 

As he pulls back, Zuko’s smile returns, nervous. “I think meeting one of your parents at a time will be hard enough.” 

It’s been two hours of sailing from Shu Jing, even with the wind behind them, but they pull up onto the moorings in the shadow of the Abbey just as the sun hits the middle of the sky. Two hours on top of a half-day of travelling, since they left Whale Tail Island, but as Sokka watches Zuko laugh with his arm around Katara and Yue’s waists as they head down the pier towards the beach, it definitely feels worth it. 

Katara breaks away, rushing forward when they see Bato, and Zuko stoops to grab her bag as well as his own. As Yue moves forward to join the group hug taking place on the sands near the steps of the pier, Sokka brushes his hand against Zuko’s elbow. Zuko nods, nerves just barely showing on his face, before Sokka moves forward to join the hug too. 

It’s been too long. 

When they all break apart, Zuko is there. Offering a hand to Bato who steps forward, and it’s almost funny to see Zuko look like the small one for once. Lanky limbs and awkward expression as he stands in front of them all.

“Hi,” he says, “Zuko here.” 

Sokka almost regrets every decision he’s made regarding his relationship with Zuko, as Bato raises an eyebrow. But then he steps forward, and wraps his arm around Zuko’s up to the elbow, and smiles. 

“Good to meet you, Zuko.” 

And just like that, everything falls into place. 

The house lies further down the shore, behind the grassy dunes that keep it protected from the ocean, and looking up the hill, Sokka can just about make up the original Abbey walls, half hidden by knotweed and wisteria trees. The window shutters of Bato's house are all thrown open, and the faint smell of something - sea prunes? - wafts out through the open door and makes Sokka’s stomach grumble. 

He follows Bato through to the kitchen, when they’re settled. After he’s noted, with some apprehension, that he and Zuko are in the room with two futons rather than each a room of their own. Beside him, Bato is crushing the herbs beneath a pestle while Sokka prepares a fish with careful, well practiced precision. Knife in hand and focused, but glancing up out the window to where his sister, his best friend, and Zuko are all laughing together. 

“You know, you’re not usually this quiet, Sokka.”

“What?” Sokka startles, Bato’s voice pulling him as if out of a daze. He realises his second father is looking at him kind of expectantly. “Sorry, I was just thinking…” 

“And which Fire Nation individual were you thinking about, Sokka?”

“Um…” He hesitates, because he hasn’t  _ told  _ Bato, like he told Hakoda, and he doesn’t know if his dad did that, or if he’d left the opportunity to Sokka. Then he remembers, sharply, that another Fire Nation individual remains unspoken about between the two of them. 

“Did you know about Piandao?” 

Bato looks a little surprised at the question. Shoulders dropping as he hesitates in his grinding of the herbs. Sokka remembers, distinctly, Bato calling Piandao one of his best friends. Remembers every time in Republic City that the three of them had spent together. Wonders if that sting of betrayal Sokka felt is felt here too.

“No,” he says, quietly, “No. I didn’t. But… He’s not a fool. And he’s a good man. If he’s endorsing Zhao for that position, working with him on his campaign… there has to be a reason.” 

It’s what Sokka wants to believe too. Every passing, bitter and cruel thought he’s had since the conference pools in his chest again as he looks at Bato. There’s something guarded in his face, and Sokka remembers the half conversation he heard. But he can’t admit to Bato that he was snooping. 

So instead, he asks, “Is that why you sent me to work for him? Because he’s a good man?”

He remembers it clearly. Two years ago when Sokka was full of so many ideas and even less idea how to put them all to action. 

“I  _ hoped  _ you would learn something from him,” Bato says, frowning as his hands start to move again, “You’re… I’ve worked with Dao for years. I know he’s a fighter. And you’re… Well, you’re very similar people.”

He gives Sokka a knowing look, eyes drifting from Sokka, to Zuko out the window, and finally back. 

Sokka hesitates. "Did Dad tell you?"

"No," Bato shakes his head, "But you said you were bringing your close friend the Prince of the Fire Nation. Then you show up looking at him like you've seen the sun after a long winter."

Sokks frowns, glancing out the window again as Katara commandeers the phone call they’re making to Aang. He realises that she too had known just from how he acted around Zuko. Perhaps he should be less obvious. "Right."

“What  _ does  _ your Dad have to say about it?”

Sokka shakes his head and goes back to the fish he’s been filleting. Determinedly focusing on that rather than the issue. “He told me I had to make a  _ forever  _ decision about him… right before he kicked me off the campaign.”

He’s still trying his best not to be bitter about that. He understands his dad’s choice, it was the only sensible decision to make. But he’s still hurting, underneath the understanding. 

“And what did you decide?”

“Bato…” Sokka sighs, close to a whine, “It’s too much to think about on vacation. I want to think about cocktails, campfires, and lying on the beach. Not my apparently calamitous love life.”

Bato laughs. “Like father like son, I swear.”

“What?”

“Your dad hated thinking about decisions like this too much as well, when he was your age.” He shakes his head, pushing the bowl of herbs over to Sokka, so he can start rubbing them into the fish, preparing to wrap them and put them on the fire. “He loved your mother, he loves me. But if you’d asked him about that when he was twenty-one, he’d probably have run a mile at the thought.” 

“Well... I’m twenty-two, as you well know, so-”

“Sokka,” Bato sighs, settling his hands on Sokka’s shoulders. Sokka finally looks up, meeting Bato’s dark eyes. “Your mom and dad, they are the greatest loves of my life. It’s okay if you feel strongly about him. It’s good.”

"I know that, I do,” Sokka sighs, frowning over something different altogether now. “...You never talk about her. Either of you."

"It's not who we are, Sokka. We never needed to shout our love to the world. It just is." He reaches up and rustles Sokka's hair. "And your mother, up in the stars, will be so proud of you, son."

Sokka swallows, nodding, before, “Do you think she would like him?”

He doesn’t mean to ask, but his gaze keeps drifting to Zuko, out on the porch with Katara laughing and carefree.

“Sokka, if he makes you happy, your mom would have loved him,” Bato reaches forward and ruffles his hair. “Does he make you happy?” 

He watches, unaware of the small smile that slides onto his face as Zuko lifts Katara effortlessly, trying to avoid the bubble of water she’s attempting to bend at him. The both of them shrieking with laughter as Yue snaps pictures of the two of them. The three people he cares about most in the world, other than Bato and his dad. 

_ Yeah,  _ Zuko makes him pretty damn happy. 

“Come on,” Bato says, looking like he knows the answer without having to hear it. “Let’s get this wrapped and over the fire. I’ve got an idea I think you and  _ Zuko  _ will enjoy.” 

Enjoy is a strong word. 

“Sokka, are you sure about this?” They’re back on his boat, just the two of them. But he can still hear Katara and Yue whooping from the shore. Along with Bato’s deep laughter. Zuko stands behind him. Pale hands wrapped tightly around the tiller.

“Bato said you can’t keep dating me unless we go Rock Dodging.”

“ _ What?!” _

“Oh, Tui and La, I’m  _ kidding  _ Zuko,” Sokka laughs, looking up from his knot tying to grin at Zuko. “You’ve sailed a million times. You keep reminding me that you’re from an  _ island  _ nation. I think you can handle a bit of Rock Dodging.” 

“Fire Nation ships! This is entirely different, I don’t think-” Sokka walks back, and kisses him indolently on the cheek. 

“We’ll be  _ fine,  _ sunshine. Son of the Chief and Prince of the Fire Nation? We’ve got this.”

“The Prince and the Fool, more like,” Zuko mutters quietly, nudging Sokka away with his elbow as the boat picks up speed, heading for the rocky outcrop in front of them. 

Sokka did Ice Dodge, back when he was fourteen. There’s a scar buried just at the edge of his hairline, invisible even beneath the short hairs of his undercut, from where he’d hit his head that day. But he’d done it, one of their tribe’s oldest traditions and he’d completed it with the same determination he approaches everything. Katara had done it too, a couple of years later, and Sokka begrudgingly admitted that waterbending combined with the dodging was a neat idea.

But Zuko is a firebender. And the ship is made of wood. So it's just the two of them and their wits. 

“What’s our plan then, plan guy?” Zuko asks, not taking his eyes off the rocks ahead. 

“Oh, no way,” Sokka laughs, “I’ve done my Ice Dodging trial. You’re the one calling the shots here, buddy.”

“Sokka!” 

“You’ll be fine! Now tell me, what am I doing,  _ my prince?” _

Zuko rolls his eyes at the mockery of his title, looking at the mainsail as it pulls taught with the wind, dragging them forward. “Take the jib,” he says, and silently, Sokka swells with the feeling of trust. 

They dodge the first, jagged rocks easily, and Sokka looks back at Zuko with his hand steady on the rope. Zuko grins at him. Maybe they will enjoy this after all. 

It doesn’t really count, for a number of reasons. Mainly that any route through the rocks is surely too short to catch as proper Dodging. But it’s just treacherous enough, that if it were a trial, they’d probably get away with it. There’s a narrow miss that has Sokka darting forward on Zuko’s shout, and loosening the knot holding the mainsail in place. 

But they’re moving too fast, suddenly, and the only gap in the rocks ahead of them is an outlet that looks almost too narrow for the boat. They’re moving  _ too fast.  _ “Zuko, do you think we should-,”

“Trust me, Sokka,” Zuko calls, through gritted teeth, and spirits, Sokka  _ does.  _ The gap doesn’t look big enough of an outlet, and Sokka is pretty fond of his boat, actually. He inherited it from his dad and did it up himself. 

“Harder on the jib, Sokka!” Zuko calls from behind him, and as he pulls, the ship tilts, just slightly. His brain says that they're not going to fit, no way in this world or the spirit world, but his heart says _trust_ and he does. 

“We’ll fit,” Zuko calls from behind him, almost like a prayer, “We’ll fit, we’ll fit, we’ll-” 

The jagged edge of the rock scrapes loudly along the left rail near the water, and Zuko gives a startled shout of surprise. But they’re through. 

They made it. 

Sokka lets out an almost delirious laugh, as his grip on the rope loosens from tight-knuckled to normal again and he turns to look at Zuko. The same look of amazed disbelief on his face. They fucking  _ made it.  _

Zuko releases the tiller, leaving them to drift a little in the calmer waters the other side of the rocks, and steps forward to wrap Sokka in a close, brief hug. When he pulls back, he’s still smiling at Sokka. Haloed by the setting sun on the horizon behind him, and-

_ Oh,  _ Sokka realises, silently, laughter fading as he and Zuko stare at each other, catching their breath. It’s soft and sudden and all-consuming, but it’s there.

He’s in love. 

He’s in love with Zuko. 

They pushed the futons together, before falling into bed. The thin sheets spread over the two of them, and Zuko’s legs intertwined with his own. Zuko rises with the sun, and Sokka refuses to let himself be dragged into waking at this spirit-forsaken hour of the day. When Zuko, pulling flowing red pants on and  _ no shirt, _ points out that this hour is technically blessed by Agni, Sokka tosses a pillow at him, before stealing Zuko’s and burrowing back down into it instead of the warm body that had held him close all night.

When Sokka eventually rises, the smell of jasmine still lingering in his nose, it’s with that same sure feeling in his chest that he first felt yesterday. The certain knowledge of himself that has come from knowing Zuko. From, apparently, loving him. Months and months, going on years, of his insane life, and a pointless feud and one day here and everything became startlingly, crystal clear. 

He understands, now, that they’ve been headed this way all along. That there was never anywhere else for them to go. 

He finds Zuko on the dunes, facing the ocean, with his eyes closed and a soft smile on his face. Legs crossed beneath him as he breathes deeply. In time with the ocean pushing at the shore. He’s still shirtless. 

“Sokka, I know you’re there,” Zuko says, without opening his eyes. 

“I’m admiring the view, sunshine.” 

Zuko cracks an eyelid open, turning his head to smirk at Sokka, before he refocuses himself. Shirtless and outlined by the fully risen sun, Sokka is thinking two things and two things only. One, that he wants to trace the lines of Zuko’s torso with his tongue, and two, that he loves him so utterly and completely and that’s  _ why  _ the thought of having sex on the beach has never seemed more appealing. 

But he’s not that reckless or that lucky, as Katara’s voice comes hollering at them from the porch. 

“Hey, dumbasses,” she calls, “Stop doing your weird silent flirting thing and come have breakfast.” 

The day is good. It’s as easy as yesterday. Easier. 

Apart from the fact makes it impossible not to imagine a future full of this. Where Zuko is part of his life, and meets his family, and loves them. A life of shared looks and shared kisses and soft moments by an open ocean. 

The day is caught between slow and fast and perfection. With all the laughter as they swim, and talk. The sun sets over the horizon again and Zuko bows to it before it goes. Bato starts a fire with Zuko’s help, despite the protestations that it’s “ _just showing off_ ” from everyone else. It’s good, and it’s beautiful, and it makes sense that Zuko is here, as a part of his life.

Yue is humming a song softly, across the fire, outlined by the orange light, and Sokka leans into Zuko as he lets his mind drift to the melody of it. Remembers the first summer here, when his dad had still come, and the open space around them felt like enough. Remembers feeling like everything made sense, as he lost himself amongst ocean waves, and found himself between the pages of a book. 

A boy full of questions, who didn’t have to worry about whether or not he had the answers. Didn’t have to worry about what would shatter if he made a mistake. 

He’s been looking for something for so long, but this is the closest he’s felt to finding it in years. Not in campaign jobs or essays or projects, but here. This weekend. Somewhere in the join of his past and his present, pressed between the familiar tatami mats of his second dad’s summer house, the answer seems both present and like it doesn’t matter at all. His future. Punctuated, finally, by the beat of a familiar heart against his cheek. 

“Come with me?” Sokka murmurs against the shell of Zuko’s ear, before he pulls back, and tilts his head towards the pathway that leads to the beach. 

The moon hangs a thin crescent in the sky, but the stars make up for it. Twinkling overhead, as Sokka slides his fingers through Zuko’s, and leads him through the long grass that overhangs onto the path, and down the gentle slope of the beach. Their footprints linger in the wet sand, as Sokka finally turns. Water pushing at his ankles before pulling back. Waves rolling in and out.

“You’re not thinking about skinny dipping, are you?” Zuko smirks down at him, and Sokka laughs. 

“What if I was?”

“I’d call you a fool. Again.” 

Sokka pouts, leaning forward and into Zuko’s space. Zuko is beautiful, under the starlight. He’s always beautiful under stars. The shimmer that catches in silky black hair, as he reaches up and slides his fingers into it. Zuko’s hands rest just above his hips as he kisses him slowly. Soft and sure and full of the unspoken  _ I love you _ that’s been harder and harder to hold in all day.

Zuko twists suddenly, feet swept out from under him as a wave rushes against them. He catches Sokka around the waist as he falls, pulling him to the ground as the wave crests over them both, leaving them soaked and spluttering as it retreats again. Smaller waves still lapping against them both as Zuko drops his head back against the sand. 

“Now who’s the fool,” Sokka quips, only to be cut off as Zuko rolls them over. Ensuring that Sokka is as thoroughly soaked as him, as he kisses him through more laughter and more salt water. 

They move back up the beach, eventually, Zuko rising the water off both their clothes with a careful, concentrated touch of his hand. All heat and no flames, as it steams and mists in the air around them both, before they settle against the grassy dunes he’d found Zuko on that morning.

Lying on the beach, staring at the stars, Sokka listens, as Zuko explains the constellations. They’re different, from the ones down in the South Pole, but they’re familiar to him. He knows the Fire Nation’s stories behind every single star. He talks, and Sokka listens and Sokka  _ loves.  _ Being with him has never seemed so easy, now that they’re here. 

Loving him has never seemed so easy.

When he stops for breath, Sokka leans over and pulls him into a soft kiss. Hand sliding up again through the still damp, salt-curled strands of hair. And when he pulls back just a hairsbreadth, and he can see the reflection of starlight in his eyes, the fact that he  _ loves  _ this man strikes him all over again. Like a boomerang to the head in its finality. 

Then Zuko  _ smiles.  _

“You look happy.”

“I am,” Sokka says, simply, because his brain is thinking  _ I love you. I love you. I love you.  _ He watches as Zuko somehow manages to smile wider, and it’s so hard not to say it. Not to say that Sokka is this incandescently happy because he’s  _ in love with Zuko.  _

“I’m glad,” Zuko says, “You deserve to be happy, Sokka.” 

Sokka frowns, fractionally, “You do too, Zuko. You know that, right?”

Zuko nods his head with a tight laugh. “I know.” 

“You look happy here, too,” Sokka tries, testing the waters between them, as he runs a gentle thumb over Zuko’s cheekbone. He blushes, beneath the caress, “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Me too,” he says, leaning in to kiss Sokka softly, before he pulls back. Sokka rolls off him, settling back with his weight propped up on his hands as he gazes up at the stars. Beside him, Zuko is his mirror. 

“You should come back,” Sokka says quietly, “Next year. When the campaign’s won, and things are better. I’ll come to Caldera and we can sail all the way from there. Just the two of us.”

“Sokka?”

“What, you don’t think it would be fun?” Sokka pouts with a light chuckle, “We can stop off at Ember Island on the way. Make a whole trip out of it. You can tell me the entirety of Love Amongst the Dragons word for word. Or maybe we can see In the Arms of Agni. I know you love that one, but if you want me to learn the words we’re going to have to watch it together.”

“It’s a nice idea, Sokka.” 

At the tightness in Zuko’s tone, Sokka frowns. Pulling his gaze from the stars to peer across at Zuko. He’s not looking at the sky anymore. He’s pulled his knees into his chest and wrapped his arms around them. Chin resting on his right knee. 

“You don’t want to?” Sokka asks, “Come on, it would be brilliant. I can- I can  _ breathe  _ here, Zuko. With you. And we could just sail, and swim, and I’ll even try and cook Fire Nation food for you so you can see how good food is really done. And we can just be. Together. And It won’t even matter.” 

“Sokka, it will matter.” Zuko says, voice taking on a hardness that wasn’t there a second ago., “People like us don’t get the luxury of not mattering.”

His face has lost its softness, too. 

“You know what I mean,” Sokka waves him off. Trying not to worry about the fact that Zuko is looking at him with  _ something.  _ A cautious realisation that he can’t understand.

“Sokka…?” A warning note has crept into Zuko’s voice, and his eyes stay guarded and careful as he watches Sokka. “What are you trying to say, right now?”

He frowns, looking down at his hands. “You know, everyone always used to joke I was the Plan Guy. I was always- I knew what the plan was, my whole entire life. I knew exactly what steps I had to take, to get where I wanted. I had my life planned, to a T. But then-” Sokka shakes his head. “You were so unexpected, you know?”

Zuko says nothing.

“You- I saw this picture of you, when I was a kid and I thought  _ wow.  _ You were just… unobtainable. Then of course I met you and I thought,  _ spirits he’s a jerk _ , and that was that. Until it  _ wasn’t _ , anymore. And you- you were so surprising. And yeah, you messed up all my plans a little bit but I think...” Sokka takes a deep breath. “I think that’s alright? I think… I don’t necessarily need to know everything, or do everything, or be everything, all at once. I can just be.”

Sokka reaches a hand forward again, pushing a loose wave Zuko’s dark hair back from his face. Tucking it behind his scarred ear. He takes a deep breath. He can do this. 

"Zuko, I think…  _ No _ , wait, I know that I'm i-"

The loud caw of a toucan-puffin cuts him off, and Zuko jolts back, as if shocked by Sokka’s touch. He’s not looking at Sokka anymore. An expression halfway between a scowl and something deep and unknowable on his face - Sokka would almost call it heartbreak - as he leans backwards, letting out a shaking breath. 

Cursing the damn birds for ruining this for him, Sokka decides to try again. 

“Zuko, I-” 

“We should go back.” 

This time, it is Zuko who cuts him off, standing up suddenly and half-stumbling a step backwards as he brushes sand off himself. His shoulders hunch and he looks tense enough that Sokka thinks he might be about to bolt for a second, before he regains something. Zuko offers a smile down at him.

“It’s late, Sokka,” he says, holding out a hand to pull him up. Zuko won’t look at him as he stands, eyes scanning the beach instead and his fingers slip immediately from Sokka’s grasp when he’s on his feet. “We should go to bed.”

The words douse him in ice water, sucking the hazy feeling out of the air. The precipice that Sokka knows he has sat at the top since Zuko first kissed him is well behind now, but he’s been plummeting all this time; falling into love with Zuko. The cavern at the bottom of the precipice. 

But until this second, he had never considered that he’d land with an unrequited crash. 

Zuko turns away, and walks back towards the house, and Sokka realises the harsh realities of a question he’d not considered in all this time.

Sokka wonders, for the first time, if the play was just a play. If words were just words. If Zuko is just Zuko. The thought burns through him, and Sokka feels something awful settle into his bones as he watches the retreating form of the man he loves.

What if Zuko doesn’t love him back?

Sokka wakes up to an empty bed. Zuko’s designer weekend bag is missing from the window seat and the familiar scent of jasmine still lingers faintly on the pillows beside him. He curled around one in his sleep. He sits bolt upright in bed. Eyes scanning the room because maybe the bag is moved. Maybe he’s just in the bathroom, or out on the porch with Katara and Yue. He proved yesterday, Firebenders rise with the sun, it’s not unusual to wake up alone. 

But the only other thing out of place is a folded piece of paper on the chest at the food of the bed. His name on the outside in familiar, perfect handwriting.

_ Sokka, _

_ Sorry for leaving in the middle of the night. I have to head back to Caldera unexpectedly, I hope you can forgive me, someday.  _

_ Zuko _

Zuko is gone. 

Zuko is gone, and Sokka can’t shake the feeling he has no intention of coming back. 

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alexa this is so sad, play Last Words of a Shooting Star by Mitski
> 
> … so how we feeling zukka rwarb fam?
> 
> Also notes on the poetry: Sokka's haiku really is by a real life Japanese poet (called Mayuzumi Madoka), Zuko's postscript is from a poem Wú Zǎo, a Chinese wlw poet from the 19th Century. I don't know A Lot about poetry but… there ya go. The Roku/Sozin and Rangi/Kyoshi letters were also from my imagination, rather than historic letters, but Roku’s at least is heavily based on some of his lines from The Avatar and The Firelord.


	10. The Sea You Put Between You And Me (I Got Your Letter)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AKA Radio Silence 2: Electric Boogaloo. Except not really.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back, I thoroughly enjoyed the fallout. 
> 
> I recommend pairing this chapter with Poetry By Dead Men by Sara Bareilles and Willow by Taylor Swift.
> 
> My love to [wheat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/burnt_oranges/pseuds/burnt_oranges) a gem amongst beta readers who helped make this chapter beautiful. Go Read boy problems xoxo

Sokka's chest hasn't felt right since they got back from the summer house. 

The words _I hope you can forgive me, someday_ have not left him alone, in their haunting finality. There was no text that followed. No phone call to explain the urgent business that called him back to Caldera. No photograph of his reunion with Druk. 

A whole load of nothing, all over again. 

There is an uncomfortable end in unpacking his suitcase. As if by keeping all his clothes in there, he can turn back the clock. It will be a week ago, and he will be back on vacation with Zuko. He’ll be laughing on a boat with Zuko. He’ll be listening to Zuko and Katara debate the merits of _In the Arms of Agni._ He’ll be lying on a beach telling Zuko that he-

He can’t unpack. If he unpacks, it's over. 

So his suitcase sits open but untouched on his sofa. There’s a half-written email on his laptop. The lines of another letter, another poem ( _O_ _f all the pleasures and delights in this life, of its thousand parts, how are we left not even one?)_ but decides that’s too much, even for him. 

Zuko had to know. 

He had to have known, when he left, when he cut Sokka off that evening, what irrevocable thing was about to be shared between them. He’d known, and he’d run, and now Sokka is terrified he has lost him forever. The thought of whether or not he'd have been happy to leave things as they were - because they _were_ happy - haunts him almost as much as Zuko's plea for forgiveness. Yet when he tries to imagine a future where he's anything less than honest about the ocean-deep feelings he has for Zuko, it twists and roils in his gut and doesn't fit. 

Sokka's never been particularly good at concealing his emotions, once they're felt.

Perhaps that's why every scrap of proof he has that Zuko and he were something to each other screams of the fact that he was in love. 

They were in love.

But they _weren't_.

Rather than return the sentiment, Zuko had chosen to run, with no answers or closure waiting for Sokka beyond the note at the foot of his bed.

What was Sokka supposed to _think?_

He can feel himself thinking in circles. Going round and round the problem as though that will solve it, rather than send him absolutely mad.

It is Katara, inevitably, who tries to come to his rescue. Letting herself into his room with a soft knock, only to find him on the bed, glaring as he watches the latest coverage of the Republic City elections: Piandao on a stage behind Zhao looking impassive as another _awful_ speech is made. It’s too much. 

He’s angry at Piandao, and he’s angry at Zuko, and he’s angry at himself for falling in love with someone who doesn’t want him back. Who upped and left at the first sign of _more,_ when Sokka had only ever tried to be honest _._

“Are you alright?” his sister asks, pulling his phone from his hands because if he hangs onto it he’ll keep waiting for messages. 

Without that to occupy him, he stares up at his ceiling. The memories of first nights and phone calls pervasive, turned to ashes in the wake of being left in the cold after burning too brightly. 

“I haven’t heard from him since- since he left,” Sokka says, finally, looking up at her. “I think… I think he _left_ me.”

It’s the first time he’s dared utter aloud what Zuko going in the way he did actually meant. 

“Then he’s an idiot, as well as a jerk,” she says. She lays a hand on top of his, and when he looks over, her eyes are fierce. “And next time we see him after the election I’m going to be the one causing an international incident. How _dare_ he just-,”

“You don’t _understand,”_ Sokka sighs, but he doesn’t really understand it either. He thought he understood Zuko. It’s taken him months, but he thought he had Zuko worked out by now. Well enough to think that he wouldn’t run again, least of all at the mere hint of Sokka expressing some deeper, more profound feelings.

But he had. Even though he’d promised he wouldn’t. 

“Well… then, you can’t just wallow, Sokka!” Katara says, “If you love him-”

“I do!”

And it’s easy to say it now, even with his heart half-broken. It’s easy to admit that he’s in love.

“Then tell him! Otherwise- Otherwise he left not knowing the truth, and you’re both going to be more hurt than either of you deserves.”

Sokka wants to argue that Zuko _did_ know the truth. He had to have known what Sokka was about to say, otherwise he wouldn’t have left at all. That Zuko won't answer his messages, let alone call him back. What's he supposed to do? Fly to Caldera? Osha would never approve it. Instead, all he manages is, “I’m going to unpack, please just- just leave it, Katara.” 

It’s another hour before he ends up pulling the contents out of his bag one by one. A precise methodical process as he takes one item from bag to laundry basket and tries not to think about the way the shirt in his fingers, still a little crisp from the salt stains, was clutched between Zuko's fingers as they kissed amongst crashing waves.

Nearing the bottom of the bag, his fingers curl around something. A folded scrap of paper, one that he doesn’t remember leaving there. Zuko's letter is crumpled up and uncrumpled again to be folded between the pages of his vacation reading. 

He doesn't know what this is, until he opens the piece, and sees again that too familiar handwriting.

_We were poetry,_

_Ice and Fire. But Spirits know,_

_You were never mine._

That settles it, then. 

By the time Suki calls him, to ask why he didn’t meet her for coffee like he usually would, he’s already on the airship. Cap and sunglasses on like he’s wearing some stupid, b-mover level of spy disguise.

It takes her all of two minutes, and the overheard voice of a stewardess, for her to work out exactly what he’s done.

“Sokka, I swear on Kyoshi if you don’t get your ass back on solid, icy ground this _instant_ I will use my diplomatic immunity to _murder_ you.”

Giving Suki the slip is maybe one of the stupidest things he’s ever done. Reckless endangerment of his own life, perhaps, but he’s never thought of himself as important enough to need a bodyguard anyway. He doesn’t need one when he’s flying halfway round the world to tell the love of his life he’s being an idiot. It doesn’t stop Suki being mad, though.

Osha might murder him, when he gets back, but it will have been worth it.

"I'm coming to the skyport, you complete-"

“Sorry, Suki, the signal on this airship is really bad!”

He almost feels guilty, hanging up, but his stomach is already a roiling pit of emotion. What’s one more thrown into the mix?

Caldera gets storms at this time of year. In the back of his mind, Sokka realises he knew this even before he set off without a proper raincoat. It doesn’t help, when he steps out onto the Caldera Airstrip. All he can do is pull the light jacket around himself, pull his cap low over his eyes, and let the warm water batter him as he darts inside and tries not to linger too long where anyone can see.

What does surprise him is that there is a driver, with his name on a card, waiting for him on the other side of the port, and a text from Suki confirming she arranged the car. 

Are all his plans being hindered or helped by Suki, he wonders.

The rainstorm turns into a lightning storm somewhere on the way. A blazing blue fork flashing through the sky behind the palace as the satomobile pulls through the gates. Driving round to the side entrance, the one they used after the Caldera cup. Sokka would actually like it, he thinks as he slams the door shut to a rumble of thunder, if his life could actually stop being so fucking dramatic just this once.

Sure, he’s chasing a poem and a lover halfway around the world, but it’s just-

Fuck it. 

This is anything _but_ casual.

Mai is waiting for him under the dry cover of the roof that wraps around this wing of the palace. Ty Lee at her side without her usual smile.

"Sokka," Mai greets in her low, even tone. "Suki let us know you would be here." Even now she sounds bored of him, and for a fleeting second Sokka wonders if this is the end of the line. Mai's cool dismissal before Ty Lee escorts him off the property. 

But he hasn't come this far to fail. 

"Let me in, Mai, I need to see him."

Mai rolls her eyes. 

"Prince Zuko is not currently accepting visitors," she says. "We offer our condolences for your wasted journey."

"Bullshit, I have to see Zuko! He-"

"I'm well aware of the situation between the two of you," Mai cuts him off. "Zuko doesn't want to see you. Now please leave the palace grounds, or I'll have you thrown out for trespassing."

"Thrown- You let me in!" Sokka feels himself shiver, soaked to the bone even if the rain is warm.

"So we could pass on Zuko's apologies somewhere private," Ty Lee says, trying to soften the blow before she glances across at Mai.

"If Zuko wants to apologise he can do it in person!" Sokka snaps, taking a step back and registering that _yes, he's on the right side of the palace. Zuko's rooms are the ones just…_

"Zuko!" He yells over the storm and the wind, up towards the unshuttered window he knows to be Zuko's. "Zuko, you jerk! You can't fucking ghost me again!" 

"Stop him making a scene," Mai says to Ty Lee. As she steps out into the rain, Sokka takes another half-step back, still yelling.

"Zuko, I know you can hear-"

Two things happen at once. Sokka prepares to dodge what he recognises as a chi-blocking move from Ty Lee and, behind Mai, the light in the palace corridor flickers on.

“Sokka, what in _Agni’s_ name are you doing?”

Zuko looks exhausted, his hair down and messy and his good eye is red-rimmed. Sokka refuses to let the sight of him break down his anger. Zuko’s hurt is of his own making, and he’s been hurting Sokka too.

“Tell them to let me in.”

“I- No,” Zuko shakes his head, stumbling backwards. He is stopped only by Sokka’s gaze. Half-pleading and half-heartbreak, he’s sure. “Sokka, I can’t…”

“Please, Zuko,” he says, and when he steps forward Ty Lee's hand presses firmly into his chest. “I just want to talk. You owe me that much. You owe me a fucking explanation.”

Zuko keeps looking at him, pinches the bridge of his nose, and nods to Mai. 

“Fine.” 

Ty Lee’s hand leaves his chest, and with it, Sokka lets out a breath. 

“Thank _you,”_ he huffs, though none of the people involved in this whole endeavour deserve his thanks. He brushes past Mai and follows Zuko once again through the warren of corridors. He doesn’t even turn to look at Sokka, until they reach his rooms. Zuko sliding the door shut behind Sokka as he steps inside, a definitive click. 

Sokka shivers again, and Zuko frowns, catching it as he turns back around. 

"You're cold?"

"I'm _fine._ "

Zuko reaches out and wraps his hand around the sleeve of his jacket, the warmth soaking up and out of the point of contact, through all of Sokka’s drenched layers and into his soul. 

Zuko’s warmth. 

“ _No._ What the _fuck,_ Zuko?!” Sokka snaps, pulling back as his shivering slows, and the familiarity of firebent-warm clothes settles over him. Along with the memory of the last time Zuko had done that. An act of care, followed by a hollow and numb emptiness that had swallowed Sokka whole for a week. An emptiness that had filled with anger as he realised Zuko truly meant to leave without an explanation for why. 

”I’m just-” Zuko starts but shakes his head turning away from Sokka. He walks further into the room and leans heavily against his vanity pressed up against the wall. Fingertips toying subconsciously with the Prince’s Crown that rests there. “You’re going to say whatever you came here to say, and then you can go, Sokka.”

“What, and then that’s _it?_ I’m _dismissed?_ I thought we were past you ghosting me, but I guess not!” Sokka yells at his back. “I invite you to Bato, you’re sending me fucking _poetry_ and then… nothing? You just shut me out _again?_ Like you don’t even care! _”_

“Of _course_ I care, Sokka, that’s why-”

“What? That’s why you _left me?”_ Sokka laughs, and the sound is a little unhinged. Cracking on its way out of his throat, “You colossal fucking _jerk,_ I’m _in love with you._ ”

Finally. 

When Sokka says it again, it is with a whisper. A question. “I’m in love with you, and that’s why you left me?”

His voice wavers with the question, and Zuko turns to look at him again. This close, Sokka can see the worry lines in his forehead, the ones Sokka longs to smooth over with his thumb. The tears clinging to dark eyelashes, and soft, gold eyes that are so familiar. Too familiar. Heartbreakingly familiar, and sad as they look at him now.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Excuse me?”

“Sokka, you _can’t_ be in love with me. Think about it for ten fucking minutes, and tell me you’re still in love with me, when I’m…” he gestures haplessly about himself, the palace bedroom, the decadence, the scar. “This.”

“I get to decide how I feel, Zuko!” Sokka seethes, voice rising again. He’s resisting the urge to brush at the angry tears welling in his own eyes. He doesn’t want to let Zuko see them fall. It won’t bring either of them any satisfaction. “If you don’t feel the same, that’s fine, but don’t-” 

“I never _said_ I don’t feel the same.”

“Then why are you acting like this! Why did you leave again, if you loved me-”

“It was never supposed to be an issue!” Zuko cuts him off, voice cracking halfway through the sentence. Sokka watches Zuko drag a hand through his hair, as he collects himself again. “I thought- Even after that first night, when you said you wanted to keep it casual... I never imagined you would love me _back_.”

Oh. 

But, then-

“Then explain _this_.”

Sokka pulls the paper from his pocket, shoving it harshly into Zuko’s chest, who stumbles back, but his fingers close around the sodden note. The words _never mine_ are repeating in a vicious mantra in Sokka’s head, as they have ever since he found it. He watches Zuko bite his lip, frowning, as he reads his own words back.

“I never should have left you this.”

“What?” Sokka breaks, furious at the admission that Zuko had almost left him with nothing.

It hurts too much. It _is_ too much. 

“I said I should never have left you this,” he repeats. His fingers slowly trace the words, and Sokka has spent the past few hours trying to fathom what went through Zuko's head when he wrote them. What made him slip it into the bottom of his suitcase before he vanished. Zuko keeps staring down at the words, transfixed, as emotions play from calm to guilty to sad across his face. “It was stupid. I can’t do this. _We_ can’t do this. It was _selfish_ of me to act like we could, it was-"

“I swear to Tui and La if you mention _honor-,”_

“It’s not about honor!” Zuko snaps, shocking himself with his own words if the look on his face is anything to go by. A mix between exasperation and surprise. “It’s about _you!_ I don’t want what happened to my mother to happen to you! You’re too brilliant to be ruined by me, ruined by this _family_ . So don’t question if I love you, Sokka! Don’t you dare, when the reason you could never really be mine is because it would ruin _everything_ if you were!”

Sokka is, momentarily, stunned into silence. Zuko’s words have emptied him of something, the breath and movement sapped from his body. It seems to have drained something out of Zuko as well, because he moves to sink down onto the cushioned bench at the foot of his bed.

“You don’t get to make that decision for me,” Sokka says, voice a little softer but no less angry. “You can’t just… remove yourself from the equation. _You_ were the one who told me not to quit just because I might fail.” 

“This isn’t what I meant! Sokka you got _fired_ because of me!” Zuko says harshly, looking back up. “You lost something because of me already. I don’t want you to lose anything else.” 

“I’m losing _you!”_

“Never.” He says it instantly, then wavers, and Sokka watches the flicker of realisation on his face as he drags his gaze away. “I didn’t mean-,” he cuts off with a soft sigh, “You haven’t thought this through.”

“This isn’t something I need to think through! I _love_ you, Zuko,” he snaps, voice matched by the crack of thunder outside. Sokka tries to calm himself with a breath. “It’s that simple.” 

“It’s _not,”_ Zuko says, eyes meeting Sokka's. “My life. _This life._ The crown. It’s _far_ from simple.”

“I don’t _want_ this life! You think I want to live in this fucking Circus?” he yells, “I don’t! Zuko, I-”

“Then why are we going in circles, Sokka?” Zuko surges to his feet again, whirling to face Sokka. “Why, if the lives we have don’t fit together, are we fighting about this? Why can’t you let me _go?”_

“Because you don’t want this either!” Sokka insists, “This shit that keeps you trapped! You don’t want it. You _hate_ it.”

“You’re very free with your opinion of what I want.”

He’s worried, for a second, that he’s gone too far. That, in his quest to make Zuko see he doesn’t have to keep giving up pieces of himself to make everyone around him happy, he has overshot the mark. But he remembers that day at the Caldera Cup when Zuko had realised his wants with reckless abandon. He remembers Zuko sailing carefree against a pale-blue sky, with a smile on his face that he wished he could make stay there forever. He remembers the way Zuko softens every single time Sokka calls him sunshine, and asks:

“Am I _wrong?”_

Zuko falters, “You have no idea how I feel. How _this_ feels.”

“I don’t need to be _royalty_ to understand this.” Sokka crosses into Zuko’s space, eyes blazing as though he were the firebender rather than Zuko. “I know what it’s like to think your whole life is determined by your family, by the things you were born into, I get that, Zuko. The things we want – what you _really_ want, it’s _not that different_ from what I want. You care so much, and it’s beautiful. You’re beautiful. You want to take what you’re given and leave things better for who comes after. So do I. We can do that together. I _know_ we can.”

_The future is ours._

“Sokka, _please,”_ Zuko says, hands against Sokka’s chest. “I can’t-”

“You _can.”_ Sokka insists, reaching down and taking Zuko’s hands softly between his, when he looks stricken. "You can want this, and you can want more than this. You're allowed to have that."

Every touch, every moment, every email signed "yours, Zuko'' flashes through his brain. Every smile Zuko has shared with him and every secret the two of them have spilled. A mosaic of moments and memories and wishes between lines of emails, and the whispered words of phone calls. 

Sokka is willing to fight for all of that.

“I can also love you and want you and _not_ want to be torn to pieces by the entire spiritsdamned world again!” counters Zuko. But he doesn’t pull his hands back from Sokka’s. “I can be true to myself and not give the world license to every part of me, that doesn’t make me a liar, and that doesn’t make me a coward.”

“I’m not calling you a coward, Zuko.” He frowns, and Zuko does too. “You don’t have to let the world take everything from you at once.” Sokka repeats Katara’s words from an age ago, “But you get to decide what you want to give. We do this at our own pace, but we do it together.” 

“You say that like it’s easy! Like we can just…” He shakes his head, pulling back but not far enough. Sokka reaches down to grab his hand again. Zuko looks from it to Sokka's face, eyes wide as he shakes his head. "I _can’t.”_

“Then send me away," Sokka says, "Send for Mai, have Ty Lee drag me out. Tell me you're done with me, and I'll go."

"Sokka…"

“I promise I’ll leave, I just-,” he brushes his thumb over the back of Zuko’s hand and he stumbles back towards Sokka. Sokka smiles slightly, hope blooming in his chest as he feels the weight of Zuko’s shaking breaths. “If you don’t want me, send me away. But don’t- don’t give up on me, on _us_ , because you think it’s some selfless, bullshit thing that you have to do for me to be happy. Because I’m- I’m staying. If you want me. If you’ll have me. I am staying.” 

Zuko says nothing, but he closes his eyes as tears slide silently down his cheeks. He stands there, and he cries, hands clasped in Sokka’s as he presses their foreheads together, but he doesn’t send him away. 

He reaches up and slips his hand around Sokka’s head and pulls him up into a bruising kiss. Whether a goodbye kiss, or an agreement to stay, he doesn’t know. He doesn’t know if he cares, as Zuko’s dam breaks and he pulls Sokka’s lip between his teeth. Desperate and wanting and loving and Sokka doesn’t know much but as Zuko picks him up and staggers towards the bed, he does know one thing. 

He’s going to love Zuko forever. 

Even if this is how Zuko is saying goodbye, he loves him. Zuko loves him. And Sokka loves Zuko. And it’s unbearable, as they fall into bed together, but if it is the last time they’ll make it matter. 

Zuko’s mouth is open against Sokka’s throat when he finally comes. The noises coming out of him are soft, broken gasps and Sokka turns to catch the last of it leaving his face. He's trying desperately to commit this moment to memory, just in case it is the last moment like this he ever gets to share with Zuko. The soft crease on his forehead, the skin between eyebrow and scar that bunches up as he lets out a last shuddering gasp, the crinkle at the corner of his eyes. 

Sokka rubs his thumb over the taut skin of Zuko’s cheek before his face finally relaxes and they pull apart. The rain has stopped somewhere, silence falling over the Caldera crater, and the room is black and absent and heavy only with the sound of their breathing as Sokka rolls onto his back. 

Beside him Zuko says nothing. Reaches out and flicks the light off in silence. There are no words to fill the space that exists between them now. But still...

He doesn’t send Sokka away.

Late summer mornings in Caldera are sticky and humid, even after a storm. 

The sunlight that streams in through the window is because Zuko left the curtains open a lick, rather than because a maid has come in to drag them open. As the light streaks across his face, Sokka throws a hand out beside him on the bed, in search of Zuko’s warmth, which is much more palatable than the muggy heat. All he finds are cool, silky sheets. 

Last time he was here, in this bed, he got the feeling that this room was all Fire Prince and no Zuko. His grasp on what that meant hadn’t been very strong, at the time, but after last night it makes a little more sense.

Alone in Zuko's palatial bed, watching the canopy curtains waft lazily in the slight breeze, he tries to reconcile himself with the possibility of Zuko choosing the Fire Prince over him. He wouldn't even blame Zuko for that. Couldn't ever. 

But it would break his heart all the same.

Across the room on the vanity, Zuko’s crown rests. There _is_ a chance for them. The Chief’s Son and the Fire Prince. Even he, the eternally pessimistic Sokka, wants to believe in a chance for them.

He just needs Zuko to believe too.

The door slides open. Zuko’s feet fall silently across the floor as he carries a tea tray to the bed. Two cups and a steaming pot that smells of jasmine as he sets it down beside Sokka. Sokka pushes himself up into a sitting position, resting back on his elbows against Zuko’s headboard. Watching as Zuko carefully pours two cups of tea, not looking up for a long moment, until he finally heaps a spoonful of honey into one and hands it to Sokka.

“Morning,” Zuko says. 

He _smiles._

“Uhh, morning?”

If he’s about to be dumped, he supposes it’s nice that Zuko starts it by serving him a well-made cup of tea. He doesn’t _know_ if he’s about to be dumped. Zuko didn’t send him away last night but… _but._

“Were you-”

“I was-”

They start at the same time, and Sokka blushes, waves a hand for Zuko to go on. He’d said his piece last night, it’s time to let Zuko have a proper turn, now that he seems to want to say it. Without yelling or ignoring Sokka. 

“I was talking to my uncle,” he says, “I decided to go meditate in the courtyard. Uncle Iroh decided to join me. We… talked about some things.” 

“About me?”

“No,” Zuko shakes his head, “No he, uh… Only Azula actually knows you’re here, I think? Though, with all the shouting that’s a surprise. Usually I’m not that lucky.” 

Sokka winces. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s alright, I- You had your reasons to shout.” He sighs. “But it made me realise- I’m sorry I left... again.” 

_What?_

The dumbfoundedness Sokka feels must be worn plain on his face, because Zuko leans forward and presses a kiss to his lips. As if he isn’t jumping between two sentences that have not yet connected in Sokka’s head. How a conversation with his _uncle_ of all people turned into an apology for the past week. Still, Sokka’s hand grips tight around his teacup, the other sliding into Zuko’s hair before he can pull away again, and slip through Sokka’s fingers. 

It’s not like he _wants_ to be dumped. 

But when Zuko does pull back, it’s to set the tea tray aside and move onto the bed properly. Sitting facing Sokka as he pulls his legs in to make room. 

“My uncle’s always trying to be full of sage wisdom, you know? You’d probably get along, if you met him. Or argue. But… I think he’d like you.”

“Zuko?”

Sokka is used to feeling like the rambling one. Not the person stuck on the side of the conversation he has no idea where it’s going. 

“He’s worried about me, apparently. I haven’t “seemed myself” this week.” Zuko laughs, and the short, wry chuckle is such a familiar sound Sokka feels his throat go traitorously tight again. But he refuses to cry until this is over. If this is over. “But we meditated, and he- he tried telling me to think about what I want from life.” 

Sokka doesn’t dare speak.

“And I just… I kept thinking about _myself_ and what you said last night about how we want the same things. And we don’t have to- And I _do_ know who I am. I knew it when I wrote that stupid poem when I left you,” he reaches out squeezes Sokka’s free hand here, and Sokka squeezes back. “I- I’ve known since I was fourteen, but it’s always been something to be buried. My father, my grandfather… even my uncle, they _still_ want a version of me that doesn’t exist and I was fine with that. I told myself it was okay to be silent, because it was easier for everyone else. That I could push aside what I want because my Uncle’s done so much for me, and I didn’t want to be a burden. I was so sick of being everyone’s problem but then you-”

Zuko looks up at Sokka, his face is startlingly clear, and Sokka is still enraptured by whatever realisation he is having. 

“You make me feel like I don’t have to be less of myself. That I’m fine existing as I am.”

“ _Zuko,”_ Sokka breathes softly, “You- you’re not a _burden.”_

“I know.” Zuko keeps looking at him. There is something soft in Zuko’s face, and Sokka crumples a little when he reaches out to push Sokka’s long hair back. “I understand that, it’s just… I think having you around to remind me might be nice sometimes?”

Sokka feels his throat constrict again; this time with a bright surge of hope, as Zuko smiles. 

“When you first emailed me after you lost your job, you said something about the future,” he says, looking at Sokka as he takes a deep breath. His fingers rest around his tea cup but don’t move. “I think… If you wanted to- If you’re interested in making the future ours… I think I’d like that?”

“What… what does that mean?”

“Last night I told you my life wasn’t simple, and between the monarchy, and my family and- and all of it, it will never _be_ simple. I’m scared. There will always be someone looking to tear me to pieces, or _you,_ but… But I’m sick of pretending to be something I’m not. I’m exhausted, Sokka. And I- I thought leaving you would simplify it. That if I never actually heard you say you loved me that I could still get over this, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t and I don’t _want_ to. I panicked, and I’m _sorry._ ” 

Zuko squeezes his hand again over Sokka’s. Sokka’s gaze flickers down and up, surprised to find Zuko is looking at him still. A surety in his gaze that was missing last night. He doesn’t even manage an ‘ _it’s alright’_ before Zuko continues. 

“I don;t want to have to hide anymore. I want to have a legacy… a _future_ that’s made better by not hiding. And I’m not- I don’t want to do it all at once. Like you said we can- we get to decide about what the world knows and when, but I’m- I’m sure. I love you. I want to be with you, however we decide to do that.” 

Sokka’s teacup clatters to the floor, the light sound of it shattering not enough to stop him as he pulls Zuko to him in a kiss. The tea is spilling onto the floor the same as every emotion, every ounce of love pours out of Sokka and into the kiss. When he pulls back and looks at Zuko: dark messy hair, flushed cheeks and shining, bright eyes, the weight of it hits. This is an irrevocable choice that they are making together. 

_A forever decision._

But steady as an anchor against the currents, Sokka holds onto Zuko, and they nod together. A silent agreement and promise of a future that is theirs, before Zuko pulls him back into another kiss. 

They stay in bed most of the day. Zuko’s robe lying discarded again on the floor and a towel tossed lazily in the direction of the spilt tea. Sokka’s tracing lazy wave shapes into Zuko’s arm where he’s curled into his side. Ironically, given all of Zuko’s worries about the disruption this would cause to Sokka’s life, the feeling he’s relishing most is the _peace._

Love isn’t always peaceful. Between his parents and Bato, he knows that it’s work, and sacrifice, and compromise. Forever decisions. The kind of things that stay with you as a person, even if the love itself falls apart. He doesn’t really expect loving Zuko to be peaceful, he had never signed up for a spirit’s tale with a Prince Charming. 

But the way they’re wrapped around each other now; warm, soft sunlight through the window as the humidity dissipates into a rare, cloudless day amidst a storm season, it feels like a different kind of peace in Sokka’s heart. 

Peace enough that finally checking his phone to find two voicemails from Osha, one from his dad, and a string of texts from Yue and Katara isn’t as daunting as it should be. Zuko laughs, when Sokka sends a photograph of his arm around Zuko to the group chat by way of response to nearly a hundred messages, and clicks the phone off before he can answer any of their questions. 

He can worry about what he owes everyone else tomorrow. He owes today to Zuko. 

Mai’s reappearance with their lunch reminds them once again that they do not exist in a bubble of only themselves, when she asks if she should call a satomobile to take Sokka back to the airstrip. The threat of Osha and Suki’s wrath, as well as his father’s questions, looms like a storm cloud, until Zuko twists to look at him. 

“Do you want to stay? For tonight?”

And there’s the election to think of, and everything waiting for him in the Southern Water Tribe, and the crushing weight of a hundred responsibilities. But he’s just made the forever decision to work out how to be a power couple with the man he loves, and those responsibilities can wait one more day. 

Even Mai smiles when she inclines her head. “I’ll have Ty Lee let Suki know.”

Lunch consists of a tray of steamed dumplings and rich sauces spread out between them on a tray. Sokka finds it easiest to talk over food. “I’m sorry for last night,” he says, poking one of the dumplings round his plate, “When I acted like I knew what you wanted,” 

Zuko pauses with his own dumpling halfway to his mouth, before he shrugs. “You weren’t _wrong._ Not about all of it. I do hate the scrutiny and the circus but… I care about my country, Sokka, I want to help us stand for something _good_.” 

“Yeah that’s...” Sokka nods, “I get that. I was being an asshole.” 

“It’s not like I didn’t give you some good reasons to be an asshole,” he chuckles, reaching across to swipe a dumpling from Sokka’s half of the platter. Sokka pouts but Zuko only smiles. Sokka can’t help but bask in the glow of that smile. 

“I forgive you,” Zuko continues. “I’m sorry again about leaving. I think… I wasn’t ready to hear you say you loved me while I was still worrying about all the reasons for you to resent me.”

“Okay, that’s three apologies for leaving so I’m calling time on that” Zuko pouts at this, “And what do you mean ‘resent you?’”

Zuko shrugs, “The papers aren’t exactly kind to the Royal Family, it doesn’t sell. I didn’t want to think about dragging you into that, and your _career._ The campaign job-,” 

“it’s not yours to worry about,” Sokka lays a reassuring hand over the tray, palm up and an offering for Zuko to take. When he does, it feels _warm._ “I’m not gonna resent you. Besides, it’s not like there aren’t other ways onto the Republic City Council than speedrunning a job on my Dad’s campaign.” 

Sokka thinks about the Law Test he did without telling anyone. The slow road, but the one that suits the man he’s becoming. The forever decisions he seems to keep making, as the path before him clears. 

“You’re not worried that being with me might ruin your life?”

“You have _got_ to stop being so dramatic.” Sokka rolls his eyes. “And like, yeah, obviously we don’t tell anyone until after Dad’s election is done, and you’re ready and stuff. But it’s like I said, we do it at our own pace. We do it together.” 

Zuko nods.

“Together.”

The hot day wilts into a cool evening and a clear night. The clouds still parted, leaving an indigo blue spread above the city. The sprawling expanse of lights across the Caldera are so bright even after midnight that Sokka can’t see the stars when he looks up as Zuko pulls him along by the hand. 

Sokka hadn’t expected to find more than one use for the inconspicuous outfit he had worn on the airstrip. But Zuko dons a light, green jacket and cap to match Sokka’s and leads him out the palace looking more like a tea shop server than a Prince. He’s familiar with the route they take to the outskirts of the Royal Caldera district. Through alleys and sideroads, giving Sokka a gentle tug every time he gets distracted by something and tries to stop, until finally they reach the edge of a park. 

“You’re… you’ve got a key?”

“I’m a Prince, Sokka. Of course I have a key.”

“Well don’t say it like it’s _obvious.”_ Sokka rolls his eyes as Zuko thumbs his way through the key ring he has pulled from his pocket. A security guard nods at Zuko as he pulls Sokka through the gate. Clearly this is something Zuko has done before. “I didn’t realise the Fire Nation just _gave_ their Royal Family keys to all their shit. To be honest, that seems kind of-”

“Do you never shut up?”

“You know I don’t and you love me anyway.” 

The corners of Zuko’s mouth twitch up as Sokka teases and it's so different now. The same as before but different because when Zuko shoots him that fake-annoyed glare it’s so full of obvious, palpable _love,_ and Sokka returns it. 

“Not _everything,”_ he admits, “But this place is special. And if I, Prince Zuko of the Fire Nation, ask very nicely for the key they give it to me.”

“You’ve done this before?”

“My mother used to bring me here. My Father and Grandfather… they’d take us on all these official museum tours. See the spoils from when the Fire Nation was at the height of power. Understand our history,” his jaw ticks here, “My mother would bring us here… She wanted to show us that there was beauty in peace, too. In growth.”

He’s guiding Sokka down a winding path, past cherryapple blossom trees, and over the stepping stones of across a manufactured stream.

“I think Azula still comes, sometimes, before dawn. When she’s not angry at Mom.” There’s a flicker of pain across Zuko’s face but he keeps pulling. “There’s actually spots here that are supposedly inspirations for _In the Arms of Agni._ When my mother was in it… they got the permission to film here. There’s this rose-tinted history here because everyone associates it with this great love story, but the park was built on the funds we got from Yu Dao during the hundred years war. All except this one part.” 

They reach an enclosed section of the garden. Stone lanterns and a softly bubbling waterfall down into a pond in which Sokka can see Koi Fish. A red boarded bridge over one of the streams branching out from the pond on the path directly ahead of them. It spreads out under the indigo sky, and Sokka waves his hand to bring all the lanterns to life. The firelight bathes the greens in a soft glow. 

It’s beautiful.

“This part was built after the war was ended,” Zuko says softly, glancing across at Sokka. “The start of the Fire Nation’s long road to peace. I can’t come here in the daytime but at night… I can come here just to _be.”_

The words are familiar, the expression on Zuko’s face the same as he had when they sat around the campfire at the Beach house a week ago. This place is Zuko’s. 

Sokka nods, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek. “Show me?”

The garden goes deeper than Sokka expects. The path, lined by the lanterns Zuko lights along the way, goes beyond the bridge winding snake-like through wisteria and shrub until it opens onto a small hill. Winding up one way to a shrine underneath a large willow tree and the other around to another bridge. Bigger than the previous ones. For a second Sokka thinks they're going to head towards the bridge, but Zuko glances up at the shrine, before smirking at Sokka.

"This way," he says. 

Sokka doesn't recognise the spirit the shrine is dedicated to, but Zuko stoops, lighting the incense between his fingertips and dropping into a bow when he stands back up.

"The tree is older than the whole park," he says to Sokka in a low, reverent whisper. "It's why the shrine is here."

"Who's it to?"

"Yuè Lǎo _."_

"That's… something to do with the moon?"

Zuko chuckles. 

"A lunar spirit," he nods. "He's responsible for fate. Romantic fate. And some versions of the legend put him in a willow tree. It's why this place is blessed. There didn't used to be much life in the Caldera, but this willow is older than the city."

Sokka frowns. "What's the legend?"

Again, Zuko laughs. A bright clear sound through the night air, over the bubbling of the creek. 

"It's our version of soulmates."

The air leaves his body in a whoosh. Sokka's eyes dart from the shrine's candles to Zuko. Zuko is smiling thoughtfully at the willow tree. 

"Most versions of the story actually have the arrogant boy making fun of the girl he's fated to be with. Yuè Lǎo pointed her out and the boy refused to accept it but then they were already tied together… fate found a way." He looks up to meet Sokka's gaze, before continuing in a wry tone. "You can see why I found comfort in the story."

Sokka's own laugh comes out a little choked. "Soulmates, huh?"

"Too much?"

Sokka shakes his head. "Just… for you to think that… To ‘find comfort in it,’ you'd have to have been thinking we were always going to be together. Ever since…"

"Harmonic Convergence," Zuko nods. 

He's _looking_ at him in such a way that Sokka's heart falters. Beating fast and hard underneath his bones. _This whole time._

He reaches out and pulls Zuko back towards him. Pressing a firm kiss to his lips because _Zuko has loved him this whole time._

When they break apart again, breathless, he wonders how he ever missed it.

"I always wanted to share this place with someone," Zuko says on the way back down the hill. He glances across at Sokka with a hesitant smile on his lips, "Even before you. I wanted to come here with someone who could love me.”

It's fascinating to watch as Zuko becomes something else here. Facets of himself further unfolding in this place that is a part of him. Revealing someone only Sokka knows.

“Well I guess your luck is starting to turn up, buddy,” he laughs, bumping his shoulder against Zuko’s. He exhales with a laugh, the two of them reaching the bottom of the hill. 

“You’re never going to let the buddy thing go, are you?”

“You love it.”

“I do.” 

Zuko reaches out and wraps his hand around Sokka’s. Bringing the knuckles to his lips to press a soft kiss to them. 

They walk slowly out onto the large bridge, until Zuko pulls him to a stop. From the highest point, halfway across, the entire garden portion of the park is video. Blossom trees and blessed rocks and the moon's reflection on the still water of the pond.

Zuko turns to him, and the silver catches in his hair.

“I want to give you something,” he says.

He waves a hand again and the lanterns along the edge of the bridge come on. Firelight reflecting on the water and casting shadows across Zuko’s face. Sokka watches as he reaches inside the pocket of his jacket. Pulling out the thing that’s been in the periphery of Sokka’s mind since he stepped into Zuko’s room last night. 

The Prince’s Crown, the one that Zuko wears to mark him as third in line to the throne, is held in place by a pin. Slightly rounded on one end, with a golden circle, no bigger than a singular coin, encasing the centuries old emblem of the Fire Nation at the other. It sits, quite simply, in Zuko’s palm as if it’s not a centuries old heirloom that used to command imperial power in its own right. 

All Sokka can think is the lessons on cultural differences between Nations. 

Rings for the Earth Kingdom. 

Necklaces for the Northern Water Tribes. 

And for the Fire Nation...

"Listen,” Sokka laughs, the apprehensive tick in his voice betraying nerves, “I know I flew halfway across the world because you wrote me a poem, but if you're proposing-"

"It's not- It isn't… it's not that kind of-” Zuko flushes, hand curling back around the pin. “I can't propose to you with the Prince's Crown, Sokka."

"Well, technically you _could…"_

Zuko blushes furiously. "Sokka!"

Sokka laughs, hands wrapping around Zuko's. Uncurling his fingers again.

"I'm sorry, sunshine," he acquiesces, "I promise not to interrupt again." 

"I'm not _proposing!"_ Zuko mutters. "I just want you to have it. Keep it for me. Until we can… Just hang onto it, please?"

Sokka closes his hand around it and nods.

They don't get the opportunity to lie in again, the next morning. Sleepy and in two day old clothes, Sokka is saying his goodbyes at the royal family's private airstrip. Waiting for a ship just for him. His arms wrap around Zuko as the goodbye turns into a promise to be together again soon. 

And the pin, looped onto braided red and blue cord pressed firmly between them where it hangs around Sokka’s neck, through their tight hug. 

“I love you,” Zuko breathes against Sokka’s hair. There is a release, in finally being able to say it, without fear and without care. 

Something in Sokka releases too, when he whispers back. 

_“I love you, too.”_

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The line Sokka nearly sneds is from Bai/Bo Juyi to Yuan Zhen, two mid-Tang Chinese poets. There were also _definitely_ some argument lines lifted verbatim but this scene in the book is just So Fucking Much okay.
> 
> Yes i did also reference red string of fate ;)


	11. The Turtleduck Letters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> emails and other asunder things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter just before xmas.  
> CW a little bit of implied/referenced Homophobia here.

**other snow and winds**

> S <s-okka@swt45.com>  
>  11:52 AM  
>  to Zuko

Zuko,

I left you about half an hour ago on the airstrip, and that’s all it took for me to start drafting this email. It won’t send till I’m back in Harbour, probably. But it’s important to me that you know that I missed you almost instantly, you big jerk. 

So I am headed south. Don’t laugh at me, but it’s like when I leave you places now, I leave a part of my heart there as well. To paraphrase _Love Amongst the Dragons_ (again) “I cannot help but give you my heart.” I know the Blue Spirit lines are yours, but work with me here. Whatever pulls us apart physically, you’re stuck with me now.

I need a distraction, because I've not been left to my own devices like this for the longest time. I really should have brought Suki with me, huh? 

Tell me about you. Tell me how much you've missed me since you kissed me goodbye. Do it with those fancy words that you use so well, because now you know I think it's hot.

But you can tell me serious things too, if you like? Yesterday morning you said your uncle told you to think about what you want? I know you said it was me, but have you thought anymore about telling him that? Or Lu Ten? Sorry, that sounded like, way more pressure than I meant it to. I just mean like, have you thought about if you want to do that or when?

I wish we could have talked about it all more before I left. At least then I'd know what you were thinking. If you need me to be there, I can be? The election is about to get awful again, but I'll always be there for you.

I miss you. Take care of yourself, sunshine. 

Yours fondly,

Sokka

P.S. by Aipilik Innuksuk, regarding winds, snowdrifts, and finding your way _._

_When a wind blows hard from any direction it will create a distinguished snow form that cannot be removed by any other snow or wind. So, it is important to keep these snowdrift forms in mind._

* * *

**Calendar Update: Sokka Qanniq** **Meeting Request:** Osha Aqatsiaq, Hakoda Qanniq  
  
**Subject:** Refresher: Appropriate Protocol Regarding Long Distance Romantic Relationships.  
  
**Message:** I cannot believe you ditched your kyoshi security to go throw a hissy fit in the Fire Nation Palace’s backyard and then went AWOL for a further 24 hours, you little shit. You best believe this will be the most painful meeting of your entire life. - O  
---  
  
* * *

**Re: other snow and winds**

> Zuko <zsozin@calderaemail.com>   
> 13:25 PM   
> to Sokka

Sokka,

Barely a day since you left, and I already find myself wishing you could come back. That I could see you, and this could be easy, and I could tell you that I love you, over and over. 

Perhaps to save us both the longing, I should vanish again. The Caldera Mirror have already proven themselves more than capable of speculating on the matter. They’ll say I’ve died tragically, or gone to Ember Island to pursue my dreams as an actor. 

You and I will know the truth; that I am lying with you rather than dreaming of you. You can help save the world and bring nations together and invent incredible things and I can lounge about our Republic City apartment, writing you haiku after haiku and making love to you as much as we both could wish.

Tragically, despite our wishes, I am stuck here. Longing.

I’m having to occupy myself, in your absence. Mostly I am dodging questions from my grandfather on when I’m going to sign on for the Fire Navy. He’s still insisting I should have signed up years ago, when Ozai burned me. It would have been so easy to pass the scar off as a training accident that way, you see. No stains on the family name just as always. Lu Ten would have looked after me but my uncle drew the line.

I do want to tell Lu Ten and Uncle about us soon. So I will. And I want to believe they will support me, because you make me happier than anyone I have ever met. Don't rush back here when you have work to do. I am brave enough and strong enough to do this on my own, but the thought of your support is everything to me. And besides, I have Azula to threaten them in the unlikely event they're assholes about it.

I love you. I miss you. 

Yours (in longing),

Zuko

PS. by Yosano Akiko

  
 _Was it a thousand_   
_years ago or only_   
_yesterday we parted?_   
_Even now, on my shoulder_   
_I feel your friendly hand._

* * *

**4 Nations, 1 Braincell**

**meat and sarcasm are not a personality:**  
**@sugarqueen**  
katara where's my post  
dad said you had it???

**r o c k s:**  
why tf is this in the groupchat?

**meat and sarcasm are not a personality:**  
katara blocked my number

**r o c k s:**  
Ha.  
Loser  
**@sugarqueen** why did you block him

**sugarqueen:**  
He knows what he did.

**meat and sarcasm are not a personality:**  
Katara!!!  
Please!!!!!  
Post!!!!

**24/7 Katara Stan:**  
Lol what did you do Sokka?

**i COULD be a werewolf:**  
He knows.

**meat and sarcasm are not a personality:**  
Yue????????  
I'm hurt??????

**turtleducks rule xoxo:**  
Wait, i thought Katara's phone was broken because my texts weren't going through?  
**@sugarqueen** did you block me too???

**r o c k s:**  
LMAOOO  
ZUKO DID YOU NOT KNOW WHAT HAPPENED WHEN SOMEONE BLOCKS YOU?

**turtleducks rule xoxo:**  
YUE BLOCKED ME TOO????

**meat and sarcasm are not a personality:**  
what did zuko do????  
and where's my fuckin post???

**She's Electric:**  
Did this have to happen in the group chat?  
  
---  
  
* * *

**Re: other snow and winds**

> S <s-okka@swt45.com>  
>  18:20 PM  
>  to Zuko

Zuko,

The Republic City dream sounds nice. 

But also what the fuck how did you let me forget about the fact that you're supposed to be in the literal fucking navy? Are you going to do it? Do you want to do it? If you did what does that mean for you and what does it mean for us? 

Sorry. I ask too many questions, I know. If you can have Mai like, send me an information file or something I might appreciate that? It's totally my fault for forgetting. Also, if you need me to hunt down your shithead father and punch him in the face I can do that?

I'm sorry your family (with the exception of Azula because she's scary and awesome and I don't want her to hate me) are awful. I can go back to talking about the Republic City dream, if you want? We can plan for after the election. 

In this apartment we share, I want there to be tea and coffee every morning. I want Druk to have free roam, that funky little lizard can do whatever the fuck he likes. And you can too. You can write a poem every single day, or a whole book, if you want. As long as whatever you're doing it's making you happy, that's all that matters.

I want you to be happy.

Yours happily,

Sokka

P.S. by Wú Zǎo

_After the yellow sunset_  
_The cold moon rises_  
_Out of the gloomy mist._  
_I will not let down the blinds_  
_Of spotted bamboo from their silver hook._  
_Tonight my dreams will follow the wind,_  
_Suffering the cold,_  
_To the jasper tower of your beautiful flesh._

* * *

HRH Prince Zuko ✅ || @PrinceZuko   
  
Delighted to confirm the joint effort in development between @TheHiyamaFoundation @RealBlindBandit  and @BeiFongTrust  
  
More information to follow soon. - ZS   
  
_Liked by Katara Qanniq, Yue, and 5 others._

* * *

**Re: other snow and winds**

> Zuko <zsozin@calderaemail.com>  
>  16:32 PM  
>  to Sokka

Sokka,

I told you, once, that my father used to say I was ‘lucky to be born’. At the time I told you I knew it wasn’t true, but sometimes, I’m not convinced. Sometimes, it’s so easy to believe it, because I am unlucky in absolutely everything else. 

I do not know how I was so lucky to get you to love me. 

You are not really the source of my bad luck here. I’m just bad at being a person. I said before that I longed to vanish, again, and I think I could. We should vanish together, you and I, to an anonymous corner of Republic City, and just be us. And It won’t matter that my existence is disastrous, because it is not so disastrous that I would wake up every morning and not have you.

I can work for Toph on her shelters, and her bending academy, and you can become the youngest City Councillor that Republic City has ever seen, and we can simply be. You and I. Two simple men, who don’t matter. I want to be someone who doesn’t matter. 

I told Lu Ten. 

Not about you specifically, I couldn’t manage that yet though I was biting my tongue. It all got a bit much you see. We were having dinner. Lu Ten and I, and Toph was there, and he was saying how delightful it would be if we could make some sort of official announcement. How beneficial it would be to our ties with the Earth Kingdom, if we could tie the proverbial knot. I know he means well, the cousin who treats me like a brother, but I don’t think he understands me anymore.

I suppose I got sick of letting Toph fight this battle for me. Because I forgot myself somewhere between my brain and my mouth and rather than the placating brush off I usually go for, I ended up telling him I was deeply and unshakably in love with someone else, and I didn’t think he’d appreciate it if I married Toph just so we could get a better deal on refined metal from the Earth Kingdom. 

So, while I didn’t tell him about you, I suppose he wouldn’t have to be a genius to work it out. 

I was assured, kindly, that all boys feel ‘that way’ about their best friends at some point. That my feelings for you may just be a phase I will inevitably grow out of. I’m just making up for my lost teenage years, apparently. Which, I suppose, was not the most awful response. Though I find it hard to imagine anyone who doesn’t fall in love with other men feeling the way I do about you. 

Really, if anything, this first step went better than I expected, but I don’t know when the message will sink in. 

I’m sick of thinking about it, to be quite honest. So I’ll tell you about something else instead.

I told you about soulmates and strings of fate under that willow tree, but there's another myth I actually prefer. There’s a festival we have, here in the Fire Nation, that my mother used to enjoy. Our summer festival, just before the rains come. The story, my mother told me, starts with forbidden lovers (cliche, I know) literally star-crossed, and forbidden to be together. They can only meet one day a year before the princess - there’s always princesses in these things - must return to her weaving. But the day the princess and the cow herder - because apparently we royals have a habit of falling for people we cannot have - were set to be reunited, the rains fell and the river overflowed. The princess, despondent in being separated from her love, was so aggrieved that the spirits took pity on her, and sent a flock of magpies to build her a bridge. Now, when it rains on the day of the festival, and the magpies don’t come, the lovers must spend another year apart.

When the festival comes around, we wish for clear skies and calm waters. We wish for magpies. We wish for a life and love free from troubles.

We write our wishes on paper, and we wait for them to be washed away. I’ll give you three guesses, what I wished for. When I wrote my words this year, after leaving you at the Abbey and fully intending never to see you again. What they said when I set them afloat on the turtleduck pond. The one where you let me weave blossom into your hair. I’ll let you guess what I wished for the first year I met you. A month after Harmonic Convergence, when I knew this boy existed, and he was much too bright. Much too brilliant to be pulled into my black hole. No matter how much I thought that, if the spirits would allow it, I could fall in love with him. 

I used to sit by that turtleduck pond and sigh and berate myself for falling in love with you over 3AM phone calls, and bad photographs of my cooking, and the sound of your voice from a hundred miles away. I wished, on strands of paper set afloat in that pond, that you would love me back. 

But I had never once dreamed you would. 

I did not truly believe I could be so lucky.

Yours from afar,

Zuko

PS. Yuan Zhen to Bo Juyi

_To think we are now thousands of miles apart,  
Lost like clouds, each drifting on his far way!  
Those clouds on high, where many winds blow,  
What is their chance of ever meeting again?  
And if in open heaven the beings of the air  
Are driven and thwarted, what of Man below?  
_

* * *

There's a reflection looking back at him and it's one he knows. The same one as always. A different one everyday. People and people and people and person. Who is he? Who was he? Who is he becoming?

7\. He's laughing. The world is laughter and snow and ice and a little sister who won't stop following him around but he loves her anyway. He loves her anyway, even after she freezes his feet to the floor for the first time. Even after all of Mom's attention settles on finding her a bending instructor, and Dad can't stop saying how proud he is of his little bender. He makes them proud too. He has to. He has to. He _has_ to.

10\. He laughs less. He mothers more. His mother is dead for two years and he learns what grief is. He learns the meaning of it in his sister's hard won smiles, and the haunted look in his dad's eyes. The grief in words still left unsaid between his dad and the man his dad loves. Sokka is tying them together. Picking up the pieces and cursing that reflection every day it looks more and more like his mother who he'll never see again.

14\. He sees the first photograph. The one that will change his life in its own small way. Black hair and gold eyes. An unobtainable air of something he can't manage. Not something he thinks can ever be his.

16\. There's a boy in his room. A boy on his bed. A boy in his head and he is young. He lets himself be young and reckless and thoughtless with a boy that smells like lemongrass and woodsmoke and argues with him about the proper way to do things. He's not burning out or going too fast. He's not. He's not. He's _not._

Except for when he is. 

His life changes.

His dad wins.

17\. Black hair and gold eyes and a bright red scar. Planets aligning in the sky, and spirits in the places where the world is thin. A thoughtless dismissal that stings and stings and stings. These are the things that he carries to his reflection when he asks _is he not enough?_ Is that unobtainable thing truly out of his reach entirely? What will make him enough?

A bitterness grows.

20\. He's lost. Lost beyond the point of being willing to admit it. Lost to the point where it's not recognisable in his reflection. Lies have become truths and okays have become perfects. Somewhere between the pieces of a life lived for other people and the life wanted on the horizon, the reflection has twisted and stuttered and shattered. Hollowed out and scattered to the wind rather than be found. The reflection is fragmented, pieces created for someone else. Someone who does not quite fit.

22\. He knows who he is. He thinks he does. He is stronger for it. He's in _love_ . He's in love. Emails and phone calls. Black hair and gold eyes. Meetings and speeches. A man that is strong and beautiful and trying so hard. He's in love and it is quiet and sacred and theirs. Not a situation that needs to be debated and argued and handled on the way to an end goal, just a love that is soft and small and _theirs._

It's theirs.  
It's theirs.  
It's _theirs_.

* * *

**Re: other snow and winds**

> S <s-okka@swt45.com>  
>  19:58 PM  
>  to Zuko

Zuko,

You say it was luck, but you’ll have to forgive me if I disagree. You’re a jerk, and you’re wound up tight, and you have bad opinions on movies and worse opinions on what constitutes a decent meal, but you are good.

You’re so good, Zuko. And you deserve good things.

I know you always tell me it’s okay not to think things through. Since I met you, I have been doing more of that. Throwing myself onto airships, and flying halfway across the world to shout up at your window in the rain like we’re in a stupid RomCom mover, for example. But at heart, I’m still the plan guy. So here it is: my master plan to make you understand just how good I think you are, so you can see it for yourself:

Step 1: You come to Harbour. An obvious step and a necessary one. After the election is done and we can get away with sneaking out.

Step 2: The sneaking out. Trust me, I've done it for years. Also I find it hard to believe someone as dramatic as you, not to mention obsessed with the Blue Spirit, hasn't tried climbing out a window at least once. 

(Unrelated non-linear step, we watch the Love Amongst The Dragons, I'll even watch the "good" version and not my favourite chaotic masterpiece for you.)

Step 3: There’s this guy I know, down by the actual harbourside. He runs the boat house where we keep all the traditional canoes. The first one I ever used is in there. We’re gonna go down through the city, all the streets and places that I used to be a kid. I’m gonna stop and kiss you and tell you I love you under archways, and you can tell me about any significant architecture because I know you love shit like that. 

Step 4: You will learn that not only can I sail, I can also paddle a canoe with expert grace. I know, I know, the love of your life is a multi-talented and very impressive guy. I’d have to be to deserve you. But I’ll take you out, and if it’s a still night, which it will be, the water far enough out does this thing where it looks like starlight.

Step 5: You kiss me.

Step 6: I fall in love all over again. 

Step 7: All this happens in the very romantic setting of a snow under the stars, because no one can say I don’t know how to lean into a cliche. But while we’re out there, and you’re kissing me, and the stars are shining, I’ll get this look on my face, and I want you to know what it means. It means I think you’re wonderful. It means that I see the strength in everything you do, and that I want you to see it too. 

So you get this frankly excellent date, and a boyfriend who loves you with his whole heart, and who you’ve loved this whole time, and no one ever gets to hurt you again. That heart of yours is safe with me, I won’t be reckless with it anymore. I won’t pretend it’s casual when it’s not. I’ll love you forever, if you want me to. 

And it will work, because I’m the plans guy. Everyone says it so it must be true, so don’t even try and argue, jerkbender. 

We’ll see each other soon, I promise. 

Yours in Love, 

Sokka

PS. Otomo Yakamochi to the Maiden of Sakanoue

_Since we met_  
_But a few days have passed:_  
_So why more strongly_  
_Blindly, madly_  
_Do I yearn for you?_

* * *

Sokka 🌊 Water Tribe ✅ || @s-okka  
  
So excited to be headed back to Republic City for another campaign event! See you all later!  
  
_Liked by Yue, HRH Prince Zuko and 12 others._

Katara Qanniq ✅ || @katarabending  
  
Water Tribe Trio strikes again! i.gram/p/7e5ggkg9  
  
[ID: Left to right, Sokka, Katara and Yue outside the Republic City skyport sign. Sokka is giving a double thumbs up to the camera Katara is holding, and Yue has her arm around Katara's shoulders. All three grin at the camera.]  
  
_Liked by Sokka 🌊 Water Tribe, Yue, and 10 others._

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so... the. emails. 
> 
> This chapter is my favourite chapter of RWRB. The sheer fucking romance of love letters is everything to me. Obviously I wanted to put a twist on it, so that’s what we’ve got here. The quotes are all real, mostly poems. Referenced here:
> 
> Sokka 1: not a poem, but from something I was reading about Igloolik Inuit wayfinding that made me think about Zuko weathering his storms and how he and Sokka find their way. You can read about it here: https://www.anijaarniq.com/snow
> 
> Zuko 1: From Tangled Hair by Yosano Akiko, a queer Japanese poet. This is from a collection of tanka poetry from 1901.
> 
> Sokka 2: More Wu Zao! A wlw Chinese poet.
> 
> Zuko 2: Bo Juyi to Yuan Zhen, also used in chapter 10 these are gay love poems from two mid-Tang Chinese poets. Also re: the festival Zuko mentions in this letter, it’s based on the Tanabata festival which is celebrated in Japan/Qixi festival in China. Shoutout to Shen for proofreading that part of the email!!
> 
> Sokka 3: Otomo no Yakamochi from the Manyoshu. While this is to the Maiden of Sakanoue, there is evidence of this poet writing love poems to men as well! 
> 
> Also kind of mad at myself that i realised too little too late that i could/should have named the whole fic “the turtleduck letters” but ALAS. 
> 
> also the coding was largely learned from reading tutorials by [aerynevenstar](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15664164#main) and [La_Temperanza](https://archiveofourown.org/series/458134)
> 
> And with that, I say once again, buckle up my dudes… 😈


	12. Lies and Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> things start to fall apart. just a bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for homophobia, further detailed in the end note.

“I’m just saying, if you loved us, you’d tell us who it was!” Katara is insisting, as Suki walks between them down the corridors of the embassy. Suki shakes her head, a small smile playing at her lips. Katara has been trying the same lines for almost a half hour. It's not working.

Suki laughs, "I'll tell you when we send out the invitations, how about that?"

"Or, you could tell us _now."_

"I could, but-" Suki pushes the door open “-then you’d be late for your meeting.” 

Looking up from their tablet as the three of them sit down on the opposite side of the table, Osha smiles. They haven't quite forgiven him for running away to Caldera and getting a boyfriend who’s also a foreign state leader. But apparently there’s hope yet. 

On the table in front of them there’s a scattering of itineraries and route plans and speeches. Plans to have Katara in Whale Tail Island by tomorrow, while Sokka stays pointedly in Republic City with Bato, before a family dinner back in Harbour City next week. The closer they draw to election day, the more intense the schedule gets. Even for Sokka, who isn’t on the campaign anymore. 

They’re most of the way through the explanation before they tilt the tablet towards them suddenly. Eyes narrowing in on something that flashes across the screen as they let out a soft curse. Their fingers tap something out carefully as their face moves from exasperated to murderous. Finally, their gaze snaps up to him. _Oh no._ He really hopes that just once it's Katara who has driven their brow into that pinched scowl.

"You want to explain _this_ to me?" 

They thrust the tablet at him and his hopes are dashed. 

"Oh, _shit."_

"What- oh, _shit."_ Katara repeats his words as a news notification goes off on her own phone.

**_NEW IMAGES LEAD TO SPECULATION ABOUT FP ZUKO AND SOKKA QANNIQ'S RELATIONSHIP_ **

"Shit, shit, _shit,"_ Sokka mutters, heart beating through his throat as his fingers grip tight around the edges of the tablet as he clicks the notifications open. 

The first photographs are from Ember Island. Hardly enough to be damning on their own, even with Zuko’s hand on his hip. Azula and Katara and Yue and Toph and Aang are all there somewhere, but they aren’t in the photograph. It’s just him, and Zuko, looking at each other Like That. Where they’d thought no one could see them.

Sokka's only thought is how lucky they are that the photographer couldn't follow them upstairs. Where he knows they hadn’t paid enough mind when he pushed Zuko up against the door of the hotel room before- 

He scrolls further, ignoring the lump in his throat, and ignoring the vicious tapping of Osha’s fingers against their phone. 

The second set is… worrying. He recognises them immediately. Screenshots of a security tape from inside the Republic City hotel elevator. The one from the Southern Water Tribe Candidate’s Conference. _Oh, spirits, there’s a leaked elevator tape of them._ Of an event Zuko shouldn’t even have been at. The content makes it even worse.

Photographs of them have always been close. But he sees himself, leant against Zuko, and the second and third screenshots where Zuko has leant in to murmur something in his ear that managed to pull a smile from Sokka, even as sorry for himself as he had been feeling that night, and he knows. He looks, and he knows that, if he were seeing these photos of anyone else, he’d say they were lovers. He’d say they were in love.

"Shit is right you little miscreant," Osha looks ready to throttle him as he hands the tablet back, unable to stare at himself and Zuko anymore. "You stood in that hotel room and told me it was fine."

"I never thought…" His voice comes out as a croak. Who the fuck was sending month old elevator tapes to the news? It's only one of many questions in Sokka's mind.

“You’re damn right you didn’t think!” Osha doesn't say anything for a second, tapping away at their phone still. " _Varricks_ already want a comment on your relationship with him, and _The Harbour Post_ want to know if this whole shit show has anything to do with you leaving the campaign."

There’s a constricted feeling around Sokka’s chest. Like someone has wrapped him in too many layers and pulled all the cords tight.

“I don’t- This isn’t even- We weren’t even _reckless._ The lobby ones we aren’t even _alone!”_ Sokka exclaims, misery settling into his bones as he realises he can’t explain the elevator tape away. “Why do they even _have_ an elevator tape of us, I mean, what the-”

“What do we do?” Suki cuts him off, and Osha looks up from furiously typing out a message to someone.

“I don’t know,” They say quietly, “We need to divert the attention from _your_ relationship, somehow. Send you on a date. Send _him_ on a date, I don’t _care._ Just as long as no one thinks-” 

They cut themselves off, and Sokka tries not to let the words settle in his head. He knows what they mean, and they shoot him an apologetic look, before turning back to their phone. 

“What about his friend? The Beifong heiress?”

“Toph?” Sokka wants to scoff at the irony of it all. 

“Yeah. Would she do that for you both? Be a cover until this blows over?” Osha asks but Sokka shakes his head. Toph would do it for Zuko, but it wouldn’t make the situation better. And after all they’d said since the last time he was in Caldera, Zuko would probably refuse to do it. There was also the fact that Zuko had left Toph to get an airship out of Republic City by herself to come see Sokka in that hotel. 

“No,” he shakes his head, “I mean. Yeah, she’d probably do it but we’d get caught in a lie. Toph left Republic City hours before that video. If they go on a date, it just looks like he was cheating on her with me or-” he glances across at Katara, and she realises at the same time he does. 

She was there as well.

“Absolutely not,” he says when he sees the look on her face, but she’s already pulling something up on her phone. “Katara, _no.”_

“It’s a good idea, Sokka!” 

“What is? What are you talking about?” Osha cuts in, looking between the two of them. 

“What if… What if _I_ went on a date with Zuko?”

Osha pauses, and it’s like the cogs are visibly turning in their brain. Weighing up whether the fall out from the potential of Zuko and Katara’s relationship will be any different from if it’s him. The criticisms. He’s Fire Nation. He’s too good for her. He’s _not_ good enough for her. All the wrongs and rights of a hypothetical relationship and all the possible political problems seem to run behind Osha’s eyes. Until finally, they settle on: “It _could_ work.”

“It would- I mean I was at both of those hotels and well… I have this?” 

She holds out her phone, showing them a photograph from Bato’s. One that Yue took of them out in the courtyard from that first day. Katara in Zuko’s arms and the two of them are laughing and looking for all the world like the beautiful, powerful couple that would make so many people happy. 

They _do_ make a stunning couple, no one is denying that, but it makes Sokka feel sick. 

“We don’t have to say anything properly,” Katara continues, and Sokka can see her working out a solution that protects both him and Zuko. Protects the whole campaign from his actions. His little sister shouldn’t _have_ to be the one protecting him over this. “Just… post this, let people think what they want, imply something clever about building close ties with the Fire Nation in this difficult time. And I… go on a date with him, where we know lots of people will see it.”

"I don't..." Sokka trails off, looking at his sister with wide, bright eyes. The same eyes. He shakes his head, but Osha interjects. 

"Sokka, we have to do _something."_

 _Anything but this,_ he wants to plead _._

“Can you get Prince Zuko on board with this?” Osha says, and even they look apologetic.

There’s the distinct feeling of being caught beneath a snowplow, to be rolled over and into submission, because it’s a plan that will work and it’s the only one they’ve got. 

The simmering feeling of inadequacy bubbles to life in his gut.

“Fine,” he stands up, not looking at any of them, “Fine. I’ll talk to Zuko.” 

"Sokka, I'm sorr-"

"Don't," Sokka says sharply. It will work, and he hates that he _knows_ that it will work. So he shakes his head, utterly unable to hear her apologise for protecting him. He doesn’t look back at her as he leaves the room, pulling his phone out as he goes. He pauses with his hand on the door. “Just, don't, Katara."

"I don't want to _do_ this, Zuko."

"I know," Zuko murmurs, "I know, I don't either, but we can’t…”

They can’t. They aren't ready. Sokka's not ready. Zuko's not ready. Zuko's grandfather is inches away from forbidding Zuko from ever doing anything like what they really want to do. Coming clean, and being honest with the world about who they really are. 

They said they’d do this on their own terms. 

Sokka wants them to have that chance.

He swallows thickly. “I’ll… I’m staying in Republic City, with Bato. While you’re-” _on a date with my sister_ “-and we’ll… we’ll work it out, Zuko. We’ll be alright.” 

Zuko gives a non committal hum. The idea of alright seems very relative right now. When they’re a hairsbreadth from disaster.

"My grandfather has made it _very_ clear that this is exactly what he meant when he warned me about staining the family name," he says softly. "Honestly, I think the idea of me dating Katara is bad enough but he'll allow it because it's not-"

_Because it's not him._

Zuko doesn't say it, but Sokka hears it anyway. The bitter taste it leaves in his mouth is somewhere between jealousy and anger. It's not even that he's really mad at Katara, even though he hasn’t been able to look her in the eye since she posted the photo. It's the world, the press, the fact that Zuko had warned him something like this might happen. His little sister is stepping into that fire because she loves him, and because he’s not able to protect the man he loves from all of this.

And on top of all of that, he still worries most about Zuko.

"Are you… he didn't…?"

Sokka can't quite put into words the fears that he's been going through ever since he saw the photos. The video. The articles that are springing up every hour. 

"I'm fine… I'll be fine," Zuko says, breath a shudder. It does very little to actively reassure Sokka. "I love you."

"Zuko…"

"I'm alright, I promise."

"Okay," he nods, fingers toying with the pin where it rests below the hollow of his throat. Hidden beneath his collar most days but today Sokka has been clinging to it like a lifeline. "Okay, I trust you."

"He's going to hate me."

"Sokka, he loves you."

" _Katara_ is going to hate me."

"Katara just wants to protect you. Both of you. Something you could never stop her doing if you tried."

"She's only twenty, I should-"

"She's _fine_ , Sokka," Yue insists, "She doesn't hate you. She's worried about you more than anything else."

He pushes the food around his plate, and tries to ignore everyone else in the crowded restaurant. They’re in the Northern Quarter of the city, where there are people and cameras in abundance. It was the second part of this stupid plan, the nail in the proverbial coffin of any speculation about him, because how could Sokka be interested in Zuko if he’s _on a date with Yue?_

The irony is that Sokka can't help feeling like a hypocrite; when a camera goes off he thinks about everything he felt when he saw Zuko on his last carefully photographed date. Now he's the one sat across from Yue, smiling at her like he used to, foot nudging up against hers under the table, while his heart is nations away.

She’s a very good best friend.

But that’s absolutely all she can ever be. He thinks, fleetingly, how nice it would be for everyone if this was the truth. If this familiarity could become something more, and Katara could be in love with Zuko. 

Katara doesn’t hate him, she’s always happy to protect him even as it drags her life into the spotlight, and Sokka is still grappling with his guilt over that while he quashes the feeling of not being good enough by reminding himself that Zuko is _his._ But everyone is in love with the lie of Katara and Zuko, and it burns. Katara had to take his phone away from him when he nearly shattered it reading an article speculating whether or not she should expect an announcement of official courtship from the Fire Nation Palace.

The narrative is different, when it's about them. The speculation that surrounds the two of them is so completely different than when the potential of Zuko and Sokka existed after the photographs leaked. There’s no hint of the derision that had surrounded the idea of his and Zuko’s relationship. It’s all _star-crossed lovers_ and _romance_ and it’s bullshit. 

That's not Katara's love story, but it is _his._

How they got from kissing at a shrine dedicated to the patron spirit of soulmates to here, he doesn’t know.

Suki doesn’t question him when they climb into his satomobile together the next morning, without much of an explanation from his part, before racing through the streets of Republic City. Pulling into an alleyway behind the restaurant where he knows Katara and Zuko are on their _date_. There’s a hesitancy in her face. He can’t be here, but she won’t tell him that. Not when he’s reaching breaking point. 

**Here.** He texts Katara, because the only way this plan he’s concocted to see Zuko before he leaves works is if she knew he was going to show up. Suki watches him apprehensively. 

“Sokka, are you sure this is a good idea?” 

_No._

Nothing’s been a good idea since the photos came out. Seeing Zuko might be the only thing that makes it bearable. 

“I have to see him,” he says softly, and she reaches across and takes his hand. The look she gives him is so soft. She’s been here all along, and she won’t stop supporting him now. Even when he’s being reckless. 

She undoes her seatbelt, “I’ll go let Zuko’s security know what’s going on, so you can have a minute to yourselves.”

She squeezes his hand gently before climbing out and leaving him alone with his muddled thoughts. It’s an excruciating five minutes before there’s finally, _finally,_ a tap at the window and he reaches across to push the passenger door open. 

Zuko is there. Finally within Sokka’s grasp as he pulls him in and shuts the door behind him. 

He appears wafer thin. Like porcelain cast so fine it looks as if it will shatter, because how can it do anything else. His eyes aren’t quite focused, not even his good one, and the expression on his face is something like shock. 

It’s awful, it’s horrible, and it’s inescapable. 

Sokka plants a cautious hand on Zuko’s unscarred cheek. Speaking softly as he moves into Zuko’s line of vision. “Zuko?” 

Zuko gives a tiny flinch and shakes his head, it looks like an attempt to clear water from his ears but Sokka recognises it. The tell of someone fighting the ringing ears and numbing, impending sense of doom that comes with a panic attack. Sokka strokes a careful thumb over Zuko’s cheek and his eyes dart round as his breath catches and finally his gaze focuses on Sokka.

“It’s too much, Sokka,” he says finally, and Sokka feels his own throat constrict. “It’s- I can’t- This is _wrong._ It’s all so, so wrong.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “I know, I’m sorry.”

"I thought I could do it, because I've done it before, and you were _here,_ and you and Yue did it, but…" Zuko starts to falter, eyes glassing over again. "My grandfather suggested I bring photographers from one of the Caldera papers along, you know? We've done it before, but they kept- they just kept taking photos, and Katara kept telling me it was _fine_ but I don't want to _use_ her, I just want-” He chokes on his words, his breath shuddering into sharp shallow gasps as he finally blinks up at Sokka. “Sokka, I can't _do_ this.”

"I know, I hate it too," Sokka says, reaching down to wrap his fingers through Zuko's, "I'm so sorry."

“It’s not fucking _fair!”_ his voice shatters, and with it goes Sokka's heart. “My stupid fucking ancestors did things a thousand times worse than any of this but I dare to love a _man,_ and it-" he chokes off, a sob wracking his lean shoulders.

“I know, _sunshine,_ I’m sorry.” Sokka wraps his arms around Zuko’s neck, pulling him close over the gearstick and console in between them. He keeps murmuring against Zuko’s hair. “I promised you. I promised you that we could do this our way, and I meant it. When this is over, when the campaign is won, we’ll do this our way. When you’re ready. On your terms… _our_ terms.”

Zuko nods mutely, burying his face into Sokka’s neck. Sokka can feel that he is trembling. 

"I- I want to believe that. Spirits I want that to be true, but…" Zuko pulls back, and Sokka can see the hesitancy. His gaze shifts downward, and the drawn lines of his face that indicate the same thing he knows has pulled Zuko away from him before. A certainty that this - their relationship, their adoration, their _love -_ will never be afforded the courtesy of being anything real. "I don't think I'm that lucky, Sokka. I don't think I'm allowed you."

“I don’t give a fuck what’s allowed,” Sokka insists, putting his finger under Zuko’s chin and tilting his head back up to look at him. “I love you. I will take on your stupid grandfather with nothing but a boomerang and my bare hands if I have to, okay?”

Zuko gives a startled laugh. “He’s still a firebender, you know. I’m sure he has some awful tricks up his sleeve.” 

“Hey, the future is ours, remember? We’re gonna do it. You and me and the rest of our stupidly long lives." Sokka promises, ignoring the gravity of the words because he knows he means them. "And one day, I promise, we'll just get to be us. I love you, and that's it. You're my whole stupid heart, sunshine.”

He pulls Zuko to him and kisses him hard. It’s reckless, he knows it’s reckless. They’re out of sight, tucked away in their satomobile, but Republic City is full of people and cameras and he shouldn’t be kissing Zuko this close to publicly, but Zuko is kissing him back. 

Zuko kisses back, and every second, every email, every kiss washes over Sokka. All that poetry and all that love buries him under its weight.

 _One day_ is enough. For now. It _has_ to be enough.

Bato’s office overlooks the city. There are only three floors to the Republic City Council offices, but Sokka can still see the lights of satomobiles as far as the east district before he drops his head onto the desk. The soft light of the lamp is barely enough to see by, but if he’s found here after hours someone will probably come and yell at him. Bato said it was fine, because he knew it might help. 

It doesn’t really help. 

There’s a think piece in the _Republic City Times_ weighing up who the better candidate is for the voters of the city. Hakoda or Pakku. Sokka has read it over ten times, bitterly ignoring the fact that it’s not technically his problem anymore. Not in any official capacity. He’s going back to Harbour City tomorrow to join Katara and help his dad in an unofficial, supportive son capacity. For the first time in years he's actually grateful to leave the city behind for a while, even if it feels a little like running away.

Everything feels like running away, at the moment.

Zuko’s messages have been thin on the ground, even as they both try so hard. Sokka clutches to the pin around his throat as he writes and deletes email drafts. Their history is being rewritten every day in the papers. On the double page spread behind the article on his dad and Pakku, there’s a gossip column focused on Zuko and Katara. A timeline of meetings that were theirs but have been given away. Ember Island. The Conference. Even the Harmonic Convergence. Pulled from him like threads and fraying the image until it’s finally patched over to make something different. Sokka and Yue. Zuko and Katara. Not anything else. 

Never anything else. 

He wants to scream. 

If he was at home, not the Palace but _home,_ he knows what he’d do. He’d go out to the ice fields and scream. He’d scream and scream until the crushing anxiety in his chest doesn’t feel like it’s suffocating him. He used to do that when he was younger. But he’s caught here, trapped like a bird in a cage. He can’t even let Zuko _know._ Because between Lu Ten and his Grandfather, there is enough on his plate.

The pin around his neck that never felt like a noose until he realised what it would mean to lose Zuko, and now it weighs him down. The idea that even after all the promises they made, he could still lose Zuko.

The last thing, the final glaringly awful article in the paper, the one that has him hitting his head against the desktop, is the one covering Zhao's latest comments about Zuko. Bigotry painted behind petty concern for the _“ramifications of someone like Fire Prince Zuko being third in line to the throne.”_

When he’d first read it, Sokka thought the ruse had failed. That Zhao had seen through their carefully constructed web of fake romantic entanglements, but it’s just slander. Just bitterness. 

Sokka balls the paper up and tosses it towards the waste paper basket, seething as he stands at last from Bato’s desk. There's at least one person left he can be mad at for all of this. That he can confront without fear of repercussions, and if it’s reckless there’s no one here to stop him. He’ll still be here even at this time of night, so Sokka might as well go challenge his fucking demons.

"Did you know when you were first elected, it marked the biggest shift in Fire Nation opinion on same-sex relationships in 30 years?" He says instead of knocking on the familiar office door.

Piandao shows a flicker of surprise as he looks up, fingers tightening around his pen.

“Sokka…” He starts cautiously. Sokka can see the tightness pull at his face, but he can also see the circles under his eyes. Smell the acrid hint of cigarette smoke. It’s the same brand that Zuko smokes, and Sokka hates that he can tell that and he hates that it stings to be able to tell that when it feels like Zuko is slipping from his grasp.

He refocuses his anger on Piandao, standing behind the desk between them looking apprehensive. 

“Did you know?” he challenges, repeating his question when Piandao looks confused. 

“Why are you here, Sokka?” Piandao says, and through the undercurrent of calm, Sokka can feel the tension.

"I'm reminding you that you were elected because you stood for something,” Sokka bites, “Because you gave a group of people a voice, and then you turned round and stabbed those people in the back when you called Zhao an _honorable man_."

"You're speaking to a Republic City Councillor."

"Oh, _fuck_ _you,”_ Sokka finally feels himself snap, advancing properly into the room, the door snapping shut behind him with a click. “You’re a fucking _sellout,_ you don’t get to preach the Councillor bullshit to me anymore.” 

“Do you want to start a fight with me, Sokka?” he asks coolly, “Go ahead.” 

Piandao isn't really to blame for Sokka or Zuko's misfortune. He's the only person Sokka thinks he can yell at without feeling utterly wracked with guilt, but Sokka doesn’t _want_ to fight him. He just wants what he always wants. 

To understand.

“I want to know _why.”_

Piandao pauses, tongue caught on the edge of saying something, before he settles in that same monotonous voice on a complete non-answer. “There are things at work that you wouldn't understand."

“ _Bullshit_. Don’t treat me like a kid.”

“I’m not,” Piandao scans Sokka’s face. Searching for something, or reading something, he reaches up and takes off his reading glasses. Rubbing at his eyes. He looks so _tired._ “But this is bigger than you. It’s bigger than either of us.” 

“What does that even mean?”

“I can’t explain it, Sokka,” he says flatly, “I won’t.

Sokka wonders if this is the same dead end that Bato met. He knows Piandao though. He can see the cracks in a carefully constructed exterior, and he knows that in this light they look almost exactly the same as the cracks in Zuko’s. The pressure of the world and a million expectations pushing down on him.

"Is he blackmailing you?” Sokka presses, stepping up to the desk, so it’s the only thing separating them rather than feet of space. “Is he threatening you? Because you're not a _coward,_ I _know_ you. I know you wouldn't do this without-"

"Enough!" Piandao cuts in before he can finish, voice still surprisingly level even as he stands up. Moving to the window and leaning heavily against the sill, refusing to look Sokka in the face. "I have my reasons. That should be enough for you."

"It’s _not!”_ Sokka shakes his head. The ringing has returned to his ears, and it’s clouding his judgement, he knows, but he presses on anyway. “I looked up to you! You- you were honest, and good and- and I _trusted_ you."

"Don't."

"Don't what? Trust you?" Sokka laughs, and the sound feels like ashes on his tongue. "I'm never fucking trusting you again you duplicitous asshole."

"It's _politics,_ Sokka!" Piandao exclaims, and he looks strangely hurt by Sokka's words. Well _boo-fucking-hoo_ if he didn't want to get hurt he shouldn't have decided to support Zhao. "Everything I have done these past months is to help people, I know that's hard for you to believe, but-"

"Of course it's hard to believe!" Sokka cuts him off, voice rising again. "You were supposed to be _good,_ you were supposed to _care._ But if being a councillor is just more lies, and backstabbing, and hiding shit then I don't _want_ it!" 

"Sokka-"

"You're supposed to _care_ about people like _us!_ ” Sokka yells, throwing his arms wide as he watches Piandao’s hands curl into fists. He realises what he's just said, and Piandao does too. He turns and blinks, looking up at him, and Sokka swallows.

"People like us?"

“Yeah,” Sokka spits, jaw set firm as he decides that he might as well do this. Why _not_ throw caution to the wind? He lowers his voice, just enough that no one outside the office could catch it. “People like _us._ Like you, and me, and the man I _love.”_

A look passes over Piandao's face, and Sokka's sure his meaning is understood as he watches it melt into something else. It is bitter recognition, perhaps, before it hardens. He takes a step back. A steel edge entering his voice.

"Sokka, you can't- I can't hear this. You can't tell me this."

"What are you gonna do?" Sokka challenges, advancing forward against his retreat. Shoving roughly at Piandao's chest. "Out me?"

" _Sokka_ ," Piandao snaps, finally, and he's a little shaken at the coldness in his former mentor's tone. "You cannot do shit like this! You think if Zhao found out, Pakku wouldn't? You can't be this _reckless!"_

"I'm being _honest!"_ Sokka yells back, his voice breaking on the word, “I’m- I just want to be myself, is that _so fucking bad?”_

“I can’t hear this right now.” And it hurts, it hurts, it _hurts_ to hear that from the man he looked up to. To watch as he turns away again, and Sokka can’t see whatever the expression on his face morphs into. "Go home, Sokka."

“Fuck _you,”_ Sokka spits, before turning on his heel and storming out the door.

His phone rings all the way to the message tone as he stands shivering on the Republic City sidewalk ten minutes later. Zuko doesn't answer.

Bato doesn't say anything of the lateness of the hour, when Sokka slams through the door with an absolutely shattered look on his face. He nods only briefly, before Sokka goes and barricades his room and lets his addled brain try to organise his thoughts in any kind of meaningful way.

**spirit talk**

> S <s-okka@swt45.com>  
>  1:48 AM  
>  to Zuko

Zuko,

I never really believed in Spirits. Even when I was a kid, that was Katara’s whole thing. With the waterbending, and being generally better than me at most things (not that I ever said that) people always said she was blessed by La. I just called it luck. I was the more down to earth one.

So yeah, I never really got the whole spirits thing.

And then I met _you._

I know you do believe in spirits, so please forgive me if I'm rude. I remember learning in an international cultures class that the Fire Nation used to believe you guys were descendants of Agni. Your ancestors had divine providence. That the royal family were spirit touched flesh and blood, and that the strength of your inner flames made you blessed.

I don’t know if you’re blessed. 

I don’t know if the way your eyes flash golden when I make you laugh is actually your spirit pressing up against your skin. The sigh you do that releases embers when I irritate you. The shine in your silk strands of hair that I can't help pulling between my fingers. Sunlight spilling out of you where it can't be contained. I don’t know if you know how beautiful you look, when you’re before me and I can trace the lines of you with my hands. 

Perhaps I am tracing the sunlight.

Because the thing is, sunshine, when I look into those eyes of yours I can see it. You could be a sun spirit, and I wouldn’t be surprised. I’d question your taste in a mortal like me. But then you’d kiss me, and it would taste like sparks, and I’d remember the fire in your veins that makes you so spiritsdamned hot.

Yours in awe,

Sokka

PS. Bo Juyi to Yuan Zhen

_The bond that joined us lay deeper than outward things;  
The rivers of our souls spring from the same well _

* * *

**Re: spirit talk**

> Zuko <zsozin@calderaemail.com>  
>  6:05 AM  
>  to Sokka

From Yu Dafu to Wang Yingxia

_I’ve forgotten everything. For you, I am willing to forsake family, reputation, status, even life itself. My love for you is always eager and earnest. I’ve told you this a few times, but I’ve never loved anyone like this before. My love is without condition, willing to sacrifice all, like the fierce fire or lightning that must burn society and burn myself._

“Sokka,” someone is shaking him awake. He doesn’t want to be awake. He wants to be left alone. He's been back in Harbour City for all of 24 hours, he deserves his fucking sleep. _“Sokka!”_

“Nnnff,” he groans, slapping a half-asleep hand towards whoever is shaking him. “Fivemore min’ts.”

“Sokka, you don’t _have_ five minutes!” Suki hisses, because that is who is waking him up at this utterly unmentionable hour. 

He cracks an eye open, and there’s something about the panicked look on her face that shakes him awake far more effectively than her previous attempts. He starts to sit up,suddenly apprehensive, as she pulls back. 

“What? What’s happened? Is Katara-,” 

“Your family’s fine, it’s _you!”_

She thrusts her tablet at him, and his heart plummets. Down, down, through his stomach, through the floor, through the ice. And as the cold grip of the ice wraps itself around his heart, he scans the News Articles that show up under her tab marked _Sokka_ , and none of them are good. It’s the same as days ago, but worse. Worse. So much _worse._

**_CHIEF’S SON CAUGHT IN COMPROMISING PHOTOGRAPHS WITH FIRE PRINCE ZUKO!_ **

**_Royal Caldera Palace goes silent as romantic emails between FP Zuko and Son of Water Tribe Chief leaked online_ **

**_SHOCKING REVELATIONS ABOUT THE ORIGINS OF PRINCE ZUKO'S SCAR IN LEAKED EMAILS_ **

**_PRINCESS SOKKA: SCANDALOUS EMAILS REVEAL ALL ABOUT CHIEF'S SON_ **

Sokka's going to be sick.

Hands shaking, he clicks the _Caldera Mirror_ article, and is met with his own image. Blown up wide on the screen. With his fingers woven through Zuko’s hair and their lips locked in a passionate embrace. Through the windscreen of his satomobile parked in the alley behind the restaurant where Zuko and Katara went on their date. The date that everyone will now know was a sham. 

There’s a photo of him kissing the Prince of the Fire Nation in a motherfucking _alleyway_ in every international newspaper in the world.

He can’t breathe. 

The device slips from his fingers as he reaches for his own phone, only to be met with notifications for more articles of the same thing. More photographs, all of it is unmistakably romantic when put into the context of the emails. _Their fucking emails._

He catches sight of the subject line of one - the most recent one - and has to toss the phone to the foot of his bed with shaking hands.

Suki is saying something, but he can’t really hear it through the ringing in his ears. He can feel her hand on his arm and he knows she’s saying _something._ Something about Osha. Something about his Dad. Something about the campaign that he has shattered to pieces with all the grace of a barge cutting through the ice. He’s fucked. Completely and utterly fucked, and so is the campaign. It’s all going to shit in a fucking handcart that he has crafted.

But all he can think, is _Zuko_.

“Zuko,” he chokes out, scrambling suddenly to grab for his phone again, but Suki stills him. He looks at her imploringly. He’s uncomfortably aware that his eyes are pricking with tears. “I need to-,”

“You need to stop for _once_ in your life, Sokka!” Suki says, pressing her hands firmly on both of his shoulders. He hadn’t realised how his whole body was quaking until her steady hands were touching him. His own wide eyes meet hers, and she softens instantly, pulling him into a tight, crushing hug.

“Are you alright?”

 _Is_ he alright?

No.

He’s not scared for himself; he almost never is. It’s just that those emails being out there _mean_ something. It means Zuko, in his grandfather’s house. At his grandfather’s mercy. With a family that has failed to protect him before, so how can Sokka fully trust them to protect him again? Zuko’s face swims in his mind’s eye. The unscarred side of his face blown wide in fear as he draws sharp breaths.

No, he’s not scared for himself, so much as he is utterly terrified for Zuko.

Sokka pulls himself back out of the hug Suki is giving him. Shaking his head and reaching for the tablet again. Pulling up all the articles again if only to torture himself. The one he opens has their entire correspondence from the last ten months. Everything since Omashu. Words and phrases pulled out by the journalist, picked apart and analysed clinically. Held under a microscopic lens as if they aren’t pieces of his and Zuko’s souls.

_Everything in me longs for even the phantom touch of you._

Tears are stinging at his eyes again and he tosses the tablet to the side again. They didn’t deserve this. Zuko doesn’t deserve this, when he’s had so much taken from him. But those words… Those words are his. They were Zuko’s and Sokka’s and no one else’s, and it stings to read them in the tabloids. Like there’s something wrong with them. Like everyone has a right to them. 

He can’t breathe. He can’t- He can’t- He _can’t-_

Looking up at Suki, finally, Sokka lets the first tear slip down his cheek. “Suki, we-” 

The door opens with a crash. 

“Are you _kidding_ me, Sokka? A fucking _email leak?”_ Osha demands, throwing the Harbour Mirror in front of them as they reach the bed. The blown up picture of himself and Zuko and the promise of salacious emails on the front. They register Suki, then Sokka, then the tears on his face. It doesn’t falter them.

"I didn't…" he bites his lip, before looking up at Osha, pleading. "How did they _get_ them?"

Osha shakes her head, turning to Suki. “Where’s his phone, he’s on communications lockdown until we find the damn leak.”

“ _No_ , I need to call-,”

“You’re not calling anyone until we know what happened.” 

“Osha...” Suki frowns, but hands over Sokka's phone from the end of the bedspread anyway. They pocket it before moving to his wardrobe. 

“We need to get ahead of this,” they snap, “Now so help me La, get your horny little ass in gear!”

Sokka lets himself be pulled from the bed, and slips his arms through the long-sleeved shirt that Osha thrusts his way. Lets himself be led down the corridors of the palace residence, Suki's hand tight around his. She's telling him it will be alright, but he's only vaguely aware of it. His overactive mind is running through every single what now scenario. 

What _now?_

What happens? What's lost? What has Sokka ruined? It's too much. Much too much. Years and years go through his head in an instant. A future that is spoiled. A love that is lost. 

He doesn’t realise where Osha has led him until he follows them through the door into the situation room. The one where they plan for what happens in the event of assassination attempts and real international disasters. Sokka hadn’t realised that actually meant him this time until he meets his dad’s gaze across the table as the room goes deathly quiet.

His dad meets his gaze and he doesn't break it.

"Out," he says. For a second, Sokka's breath catches. A few of the advisors start to move. Hakoda moves his gaze from Sokka to briefly glare at those who dared stay in their seats.

"Everyone _out.”_ He says again, and Sokka’s never heard that ice cold tone before. _“_ I need to speak to my son."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for characters getting outed, and the homophobic response of the press re:that. The Leak that most of you have been anticipating.  
> .  
> .  
> .
> 
> Sorry. I love y'all I promise...
> 
> Again, the things from the letters are real world things. The second one isn’t a poem, I actually found it in a review of a paper about ancient love letters in china and the line about burning? Convinced it was fate that i found it tbh. Sokka's is another extract from the gay love letters/poems of Bo Juyi and Yuan Zhen.
> 
> Also background info, the first draft of Sokka’s letter was (I think?) the first thing I wrote for this fic. It was what made me go, yeah I can do this. I can make this AU into something really good, and almost 100k later, here we are <3


	13. The Day We Got Caught

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reckoning is finally here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for panic attacks, referenced child abuse, and homophobia.

“Sokka,” his father sighs, before opening his arms wide. 

The bubbling, roiling feeling that’s been wracking his insides since Suki woke him up floods over his carefully constructed gates, and he stumbles forward. He can’t register if his dad sounds disappointed. Here he is, on the edge of a scandal created by him – Sokka – and he’s still wrapping Sokka up in a hug.

Bato hugs often. Throwing easy arms around Sokka and Katara both, whenever he sees them. But hugs like this from his dad are far fewer. The last time he was held so tight – he’s not even sure.

He thinks, faintly, that it might have been when his mother died.

A startled sob rips its way through Sokka’s throat and out, muffled by the fur lining of his Dad’s dressing gown. _Don’t panic._ He tells himself. He _can’t_ panic yet. But he never usually _cries_ this much. “I’m sorry,” he manages, voice small and quiet. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

“Don’t you dare, Sokka.”

“But- The election, I-” 

“Sokka,” his Dad cuts him off, pushing him back just enough that he can look him in the eyes. “You and your sister are my entire world. Right now the election is secondary. Are you alright?”

 _No_. 

No, he isn’t alright, and he wants more than anything just to _talk_ to Zuko, but he can’t do that because no one will let him, and his head is filled with awful images of what could be happening to the man he loves an ocean away. 

"Can I- Have we heard anything from Caldera? From Zuko?"

Hakoda sighs, running a hand over Sokka's hair as he shakes his head. 

"Nothing," he says, "They aren't taking our calls. But it will be alright."

Sokka nods, swallowing his own guilt as his eyes drift downwards. The word _sunshine_ stands out on one of the pieces of paper. A print out of every word and secret he and Zuko spilled between the two of them over the last year. The lump rises in his throat again, and he can’t look his dad in the eye.

“I thought- I told him we could tell people when we wanted to. That we could do this our way. The right way for _us,_ not-” 

His breath shudders as he cuts himself off again. 

The chance to do this properly has been snatched away from them and he’s running through every single future that exists from now on. Now that this is set in stone this way. A lost election. A disowned Prince. More Scars. The tabloid press, and their every insidious word of disapproval, have stolen so much from him that the word angry does not totally encompass it. 

But most of all he’s angry that they have made him a liar. 

He promised Zuko that they got to decide what they gave away, and now that promise has been burned to ash. It’s not his fault, but the guilt is enough to drown him all the same.

His dad seems to sense his rising panic because he settles a hand heavily on Sokka's shoulder. Grounding him.

"It's going to be alright, son," he repeats in a low tone. "I'm sorry that this happened to you."

With that, the dam of his emotions starts welling over again and Sokka clenches his jaw tight. Those words make it bigger somehow. More real. As if he doesn’t already know that it’s real. His dad has read his deepest secrets and _fuck_ his stupid fucking sex-flirting with his boyfriend. He’s at the heart of an international sex scandal, and his dad is still reassuring him. 

The words drag him back to trying to face the reality in this room. He can deal with this one step at a time, and pray to Tui and La that those steps eventually take him back to Zuko. 

So Sokka nods, before looking up. “What now?”

“Well, that depends on if you've decided whether or not you feel forever about him?”

#  **The Harbour City Post**

### The Turtleduck Letters - What You Need To Know, So Far

**_Sokka Qanniq is reportedly involved with Fire Prince Zuko, Chief’s administration yet to comment on the relationship._ **

Chief Hakoda's administration scrambles to find a security leak after revealing emails were posted on WanShiLeaks under the title “The Turtleduck letters,” seemingly for the turtleduck pond in Caldera Palace referenced in them. The emails revealed details about the personal life of Chief Hakoda's son, Sokka Qanniq, who has been romantically and sexually involved with Prince Zuko of the Fire Nation for the past ten months. The SWT Palace are yet to offer any official comment.

With just over a month to go until the Water Tribes’ Election, many are already asking what the effect of Sokka Qanniq’s actions will be on the outcome. The United Press, who until recently were predicting a lead for Chief Hakoda to win a second term, have yet to update their estimations. Many are expecting the already tight race could become closer still.

This breach of privacy has also majorly called into question the security of the private email server used by the Chief’s family, from where the emails seem to have been lifted.

“While there were no initial findings of deliberate mishandling of classified information,” stated Chief Hakoda’s opposing candidate, Pakku Angulalik when requesting a formal investigation into the emails, further adding that “the situation highlights that use of this private email server by those close to the chieftaincy has increased the vulnerability of classified information.”

He went on to say it’s clear that Chief Hakoda could hardly be expected to be impartial on traditional values given his son’s now very public personal romantic life. Chief Hakoda has so far refused to comment on the contents of the emails, or his son’s relationship with the Fire Prince.

Experts examining “The Turtleduck Letters” have not yet found any compromising information other than that pertaining to Sokka Qanniq’s relationship with Prince Zuko.

“Sokka,” Osha catches his arm as he comes out of the third meeting he’s been pushed into. It’s not even six AM yet, but it has been a mess of News Articles and polling numbers and Worst Case Scenarios. Then Osha is pulling him so suddenly into a hug that it shocks him into stillness before his arms go around their back. 

Osha has never hugged him. 

“I’m sorry about this,” they say quickly, “I promise I’m working on it, okay?”

“What?”

“On Zuko. I’ve got a plan.”

They press his phone back into his hand, tell him not to do anything stupid with it, before darting off down the corridor with Suki who shoots him what he assumes is supposed to be a reassuring look.

* * *

**4 Nations, 1 Braincell**

**r o c k s:**  
Saw the news  
Let me know if i need to crush any skulls

**24/7 Katara Stan:**  
Let us know if you need anything

**sugarqueen:**  
Sokka’s been in meetings all morning, but i’ll pass it on if I see him before he gets his phone back  
Has anyone heard from Zuko?

**r o c k s:**  
Not since yesterday  
Nothing from Azula either

**i COULD be a werewolf:**  
If you hear from him, let him know we’re thinking of him  
I'm gonna guess he's not on his phone either.

**24/7 Katara Stan:**  
Will do. Love you all <3

**sugarqueen:**  
Thank you <3  
Love you too.

**meat and sarcasm are not a personality:**  
i'm fine. love you guys.  
  
---  
  
* * *

The sun doesn’t rise or set at this time of year. It is a constant hanging in the sky. But when Sokka glances at his watch and sees 9:30AM on his wrist all he wants to do is crawl back into his bed. Through ten endless meetings, he has endured lists of potential outcomes, seemingly infinite charts and graphs, and a fucking statistical analysis of the international and socio-political impacts of his own relationship. 

It makes him feel sick. 

It makes him feel worse when he realises he doesn’t regret a single thing about it. He looks every judgemental press staffer and strategist in the eye, with his father at his back, and says, ‘ _no, I won’t take it back’_ and ‘ _yes, he’s my boyfriend.’_

Maybe the damage he has caused is irreparable, he’s _certainly_ seen enough facts and figures to suggest that might be the case, but in the deepest pits of his soul, he knows he’ll _never_ regret loving Zuko. Not even for every single vote in Republic City. 

_A forever decision._

A decision he had made months ago, and every day since. The past few days have mashed together in his brain over the past few hours. The tabloid leak and the lies and Zuko’s quiet voice at the end of the phone line. But there’s one point, one that he _might_ regret, sticking out like a sore point in his memories.

“Dad?” Sokka starts softly, and Hakoda looks up, eyes curious and sad. _Spirits, why does he have to look sad right now?_ He clears his throat, and speaks low enough that only his dad will hear. “I told Piandao.”

“ _What?”_

“The night before Bato and I left Republic City, I told him about Zuko and me. What if--”

He stood in Piandao’s office days ago and challenged him with this, told him to out him, and here he is. Facing the consequences of that very thing having occurred. 

“No,” Hakoda shakes his head, “No, Piandao’s many things but he’s not cruel. He wouldn’t do this to either of you.”

It should make him feel better, but it doesn’t. He wants more than anything to believe that his dad is right, that this _couldn’t_ have been Piandao.

 _Right_?

He holds onto that belief even with the numb feeling that’s starting to fill his whole body. Tingling when his dad finally wraps an arm around his shoulders again, as the last of the advisors leave, and guides him gently back to the family rooms of the residence. His dad is talking to him, but now that he’s not being made to focus on the quantifiable proof of his catastrophic failure, the emptiness claws at him. 

His brain keeps trying to tell him that it’s _fine._ That with the proof of his disastrous actions, he’s also been shown how it’s Not Actually As Bad as all that. But it doesn’t feel fine. 

He is lost in a blizzard again. White, numbing, screaming in his ears. The panic rising with every staccato beat of his heart, every beat speeding so fast that he starts to feel like he might pass out. Or throw up. And then pass out. His mind _won’t_ accept that it’s fine, he’s fine, racing instead towards full on, unbridled panic. His feet go sluggish as they reach the landing at last, and he hears Katara’s voice, and Bato’s and even _Yue_ from the games room at the end of the hall. 

Sokka stumbles against his dad, the arm around his shoulder moving to his waist as the sound of his father saying his name comes through a foggy haze, like he’s doused his head in a vat of honey.

There’s the sound of a door opening. More Talking. His Name. His Family. The cold landing floor against his knees. Twisting in someone’s grasp. Sharp, gasping, shallow breaths and- oh that’s _him._ That’s _his_ breath. Why does it feel like there’s no air in his lungs? Only cold, icy, shards that stab him with every inhale. 

He’s moving. Someone is moving him. Katara’s warm hands and soothing voice. _She sounds just like their mother._ His hand brushes something. The copy of the Harbour Mirror Osha had left on his bed this morning, and a choking sound escapes his throat. 

There’s a hand running through his hair, and he tries to focus on something, anything, to pull him out of the storm raging through his body. He doesn’t even know where it _came_ from. It was fine. He was _fine_. 

He was. 

He was fine. 

Until all too suddenly, he realised, he wasn’t fine at all.

Sokka falls asleep, eventually, with the weight that everything he had ignored since Suki burst into his room crushing him absolutely. Leaving him buried in the snowdrift until he could do nothing but sleep. He must sleep. But when he wakes up there’s the comfortable weight of Katara’s head on his chest and Yue is curled around him from the other side. It’s easier to breathe, somehow, under the weight of two of the people he knows love him most. 

“Sokka?” Katara murmurs on feeling him shift. She tilts her head up, and the soft glow of a phone screen outlines her face. Her brow is creased with worry. “Are you feeling a bit better?”

Sokka breathes again, and when he goes to speak, he realises his throat feels like it’s full of sawdust. So he closes his mouth and nods. Yue turns in her sleep as Katara sits up. Her hand has been holding his this whole time, and he doesn’t realise how numb his fingers have been until she squeezes.

“Dad’s talking to Osha again,” she says softly, “They’re trying to get hold of Zuko for you.”

 _Still._ They still haven’t heard from him. He doesn’t know how long he’s even slept, but they still haven’t heard from him. 

“Time’s it?” he asks, and his voice is soft. It sounds, he notes with some despondency, almost like Zuko's. 

“Just after lunch,” she says, “I can go ask Bato to get you something, if you want?”

Sokka shakes his head, ignoring the worry deepening on Katara’s face when he does it. The idea of eating doesn’t seem right. He wants to know what’s going on. He wants to know if Zuko’s okay. His bones ache, and he’s slept cramped up and fitfully and in the same clothes he’d pulled on in a panicked rush at 4am this morning. 

“Are you sure?”

“Is there… could you make me some tea?” he asks. Katara only smiles at him before she nods.

He pulls his phone off the nightstand when she’s out of the room. Careful not to wake Yue who snores at his side. Whoever had tucked the three of them under the blanket had also plugged his phone in, and he’s so immeasurably grateful for his family in that second, that it’s only dampened a little when he sees that there’s no notification from Zuko. 

There are other notifications though. 

Comments, and articles, and Hawker mentions. Flooded with questions and accusations and lies. He can’t tear his eyes away from it, scrolling through every single one of them with the same morbid fascination he’d watch a satomobile crash with. The exception being that this time the satomobile crash happens to be his public, internationally scandalous, sex life. And isn’t that just wonderful?

“Sokka?” Yue stirs, and that’s when he knows his breathing has gotten all sharp and fast again. She sees the look on his face, she sits straight up, alert, and pulls the phone from his hand. Shoving it under the pillow behind her before she gives him a look that’s both hard and apologetic. “Don’t.”

“I fucked up, Yue.” 

“You didn’t do anything. This wasn’t your fault.” 

How many people are going to say that before he believes it?

She throws her arms around his neck in a hug and holds him until he feels calm. Long enough that he’s still wrapped up in her arms when the door opens and the familiar smell of jasmine tea fills the room. Katara sets the teacup on his bedside table before laying a hand on his back. Joining the hug. 

He feels like he did when he was fifteen. That it is the three of them against the world, three kids who don’t fully understand the enormity of the world they’re about to step into, but who step anyway because they can do it together. Because it’s important. Because it _matters._

It will be fine again. 

It has to be.

“Why-? Osha, I don’t understand.” 

Osha is setting a bag at the foot of his bed and pulling a selection of smart-casual clothes from his chest of drawers, folding them neatly with a dutiful but efficient precision before packing them. Suki’s hovering by the door, smiling as she chats to Katara and Yue but he can’t focus on that conversation at the moment.

“That’s a first,” Osha quips, pulling one of the freshly laundered blue suits from his wardrobe. And laying it across the foot of his bed. “You’re going to Caldera. This afternoon.”

“I’m _what?”_

They turn and, though they’ve never been prone to overly emotional displays, something guilty flickers in their face. This is their way of making something up to him. From the hug to this, he knows it’s for what they said in the early hours of this morning. Neither of them are going to voice that, though. 

Instead, Sokka nods, swallowing the lump of gratefulness that rises in his throat, and accepts the travel outfit they set out for him with a soft spoken _‘thank you_.’

Suki will accompany him to Caldera, and that’s the extent of what he’s told. Though as he understands it, this isn’t an _official_ visit. That is, no one in the family has invited him to the palace, given that they still seem to be on complete and total communications lockdown. But for whatever reason, Suki seems overwhelmingly confident this will work. 

Bato and Hakoda hug him simultaneously as he leaves the palace, and it’s not five seconds before Katara piles onto the hug as well. His dad’s voice is gentle in his ear. Reminding him that Sokka has his blessing to go public with the truth, if that’s what Zuko wants, and that he’s strong enough and clever enough to stand up to the Fire Lord. 

It’s what _Zuko_ wants that is the last question, and he trusts his boyfriend enough, now that the haze of _Worst Case Scenario_ has passed, to be sure that Zuko won’t want to deny it all either. The opportunity to come clean with the world on their own terms may have passed, and Zuko may be angry over his broken promises, but he knows Zuko. He loves Zuko. 

He’ll do that openly if he’s allowed to.

He’ll do it even if he’s not.

He sits only through take off, his mind too bursting for his body to be still once the airship is at cruising height. 

People knowing doesn't bother him. He doesn't even mind that people can speculate about his sex life that much. He’s always worn his heart on his sleeve. 

The silver lining, that he can hear Zuko's voice in his head telling him to look for, is that the world _knows_ now that Zuko is _his_. Zuko has been his all year.

The grey cloud the lining is attached too, however, is storming. An oppressive pall of violation and humiliation that had led to him gasping apart on the landing only hours ago, reliant on his family to pull him back together. Uncertainty and panic clouding the lining as he realised everyone knew his flaws now. His anxiety and self-doubt and the pieces of his soul that had taken courage to bare to one person, let alone the world. 

And the pieces of Zuko’s spirit too. Zuko’s turtleduck pond, forever tarnished. Zuko’s heart, exposed and battered and broken, and _spirits,_ what if it _is_ Sokka’s-

"You're pacing again," Suki says, and Sokka scowls at her. 

"I'm _thinking,"_ he says, "I need to think."

"About what?"

He shoots her a look as if to say _what do you think?_

"They're going to let us in."

"But how do you _know_ that?" he stops beside her chair. "How do you _know_ that we won't just get thrown in a Fire Nation prison as soon as we're inside the- who are you calling?"

"Yeah it's me, we're on our way," Suki ignores him in favour of speaking to whoever is on the other end of the phone. "Can you put him on, I know he's there? I think it might help them."

There's a pause, in which Sokka’s throat catches because ' _him'_ can only mean one person right now, but how could Suki get hold of him? Then Suki holds the phone out to Sokka. He takes it when she doesn't elaborate.

He doesn’t dare to hope. “Uh, Sokka, here?”

"Sokka?"

"Zuko," Sokka breathes, and the tension that's been gripping him seeps out inch by inch at the sound of his voice.

Zuko sounds as relieved as he feels. "Are you okay?"

" _Tui and La,_ Zuko," Sokka almost laughs, "I'm _fine._ Are you-"

"Yes," he says, almost too quickly for Sokka to believe him. 

"Zuko…?"

"It's nothing, really, I-" his breath shudders, "And Azula's here. I'm fine, I'll be fine."

Sokka’s heart clenches as he hangs on to the promise Zuko makes. Tries not to let the rising tide of _guilt, guilt, guilt,_ pull him out and drown him again. Zuko is _fine._ Zuko will be _fine._

"I'm _sorry_ ," he breathes, the tears stinging his eyes. At least Zuko's not here to see them, because Sokka knows they won't 

help. “I’m on my way, I’ll be there soon. I’m sorr-”

“ _Sokka,”_ Zuko cuts him off, and his laugh is watery but it’s beautiful to hear it all the same. “There’s nothing to apologise for.”

Sokka’s heart is beating through his throat again. Just when he’d finally got it under control. Pushing tears to his eyes as he tries to accept this. 

“We should talk about-”

“What do you want to-”

They start at the same time, and Zuko breaks off with a watery laugh. Sokka bites his lip for a moment, “You go first.” 

“We should talk about what we want to do,” he says, in the rehearsed calmness of someone who has already given a lot of thought to what they want to do. Sokka starts to nod, and then remembers he’s on a phone call. 

“Yeah?”

“I- I’m not mad. That people know. I don’t care and I’m not _sorry.”_

The words punch all the air out of Sokka, and he’d really appreciate it if that stopped happening, actually. Somehow, Zuko has voiced the very thoughts that have been pulling at him all day. _Soulmates indeed._ His hand grips tight around the phone. 

“So…?”

“I want to tell the truth. To everyone,” he says, and it’s quiet but it’s also so very _sure._ Sokka feels the tears pricking his eyes again. “I wouldn’t- Obviously, it’s not the way I would have _wanted_ to do it, but… I’m done lying. I won’t lie about _you_ and everyone knows now so… So yeah, fuck it, I love you.” 

“I love you too.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Sokka exhales, “We’re gonna do this, sunshine.” 

Zuko laughs wetly again, but it’s full of a smile. “I guess so, buddy.” 

He hands the phone back to Suki after a few more 'I love yous' in lieu of a goodbye, and tries not to smile at the way she rolls her eyes fondly at him for all of them. 

"So…" he says when can contain kt no longer. "Who did you call?"

Suki is already busy tapping out a message onto her phone. Gnawing at her lip for a second, before she finally speaks. “I’m dating Ty Lee," she says and _of course, why did he never put that together?_ "That's her personal number. We… we've always promised we wouldn't use them for work."

"Oh," he swallows, and some of the awful numb feeling starts to curl at his toes again. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine," Suki smiles placatingly at him, then reaches over to take his hand, "We're both rooting for you, you know? Mai and Osha too."

"Spirits, are Mai and Osha--"

" _No,"_ Suki laughs, "but they're on board with this. That's how I know we'll get in the palace. You'll see Zuko soon, I promise, so will you _please_ sit down?"

"Lu Ten, if you're not here with uncle, or to apologise, then we don't want- Oh." Azula frowns when she realises it's not her cousin or her uncle at the door. When she opens it to instead reveal an exhaustion weary Sokka who is wringing his hands nervously in front of him, her eyes narrow into a sharp glare. "It's _you_."

Sokka pauses.

“I’m- yes?” he falters. Not sure of the reception he’s going to receive from her, because if _Azula_ blames him for what transpired then he’s in _trouble._ Sokka musters his courage, trying to peer around her. “Ty Lee said he was…”

“Took you long enough,” she says, letting the door swing open. So he can see properly inside the siblings’ living room. 

Zuko is fine. 

Zuko is standing in the middle of the room, smiling weakly at Sokka as he moves past Azula at the door. 

It takes half a second before Sokka launches himself into Zuko's arms at the same moment he staggers forward a few steps, only to stumble as they collide. His arms around Sokka's waist as Sokka's own go round Zuko's neck. Burying his face into the soft silk of his dressing down and the smell of smoke and jasmine.

"I'm so sorry," Sokka says. He said it on the call, but pressed against Zuko now it feels important to say it again. 

"Don't be," Zuko whispers against him, "People know now and I- I want them to know."

Sokka pulls back a little, looking up at Zuko. 

"But, I promised you-"

"You didn't break your promise, Sokka. This isn't your fault."

Something in Sokka's heart shifts, at those words specifically, and pulls Zuko back into a hug. Zuko's fine. He's here and he's fine and he doesn't hate Sokka. 

He doesn't even _blame_ Sokka.

 _He didn’t break his promise._ Sokka’s guilty conscience, fuelled by every judgemental comment he’s read, screams that _yes he did_ , but it’s all drowned out with Zuko’s absolution. Zuko who is fine and _here_ and in his arms. Sokka wants to collapse against his chest and make more promises, ones he intends to keep, with words like, _forever_ and _always_ and _yours._

Sokka lets him go at last, taking his hand and pulling him to sit before the tea table, where Azula has already set out a third cup for Sokka. 

“I was so worried about you,” Sokka says, as Zuko leans against him. Dark hair falling over Sokka’s shoulder as Zuko rests his head on it.

“I've been fine, honestly. There was just some… yelling. My grandfather knows my intentions, I think," Zuko murmurs, "I didn't even know about the emails leaking until-"

“You’re lucky that’s all it was,” Azula says, and all the coldness in her tone is for the Fire Lord and not for Zuko, but Sokka turns his head to look at her. “Our grandfather has about as good a grasp on his temper as the rest of the family.”

She's not looking at either of them, instead she glares at a bright blue flame balanced between her fingertips. There’s a distant look on her face that’s not entirely focused on the fire.

Zuko sighs, “Uncle wouldn’t have let anything happen.” 

“What does he have to say about it?”

No one answers Sokka, and the grim silence spreads before Zuko finally mutters. “I’ve not spoken to him. Not since we- Not since we heard. Not properly. He told me to go _rest_ and now we’re… here.” 

Sokka has no idea if that’s good or bad. And Zuko looks anything but well rested. He looks like he’s got even less rest than Sokka, who doesn’t think the few hours of panic-induced sleep really counted as _rest._

“I can’t bother him with this, he’s dealing with enough because of me right now.” Azula gives a small cough across the table. For whatever reason she disagrees. But Zuko just rolls his eyes, leaning back against Sokka. “Besides, it doesn’t matter what he says. It’s what I want to do… And it’s the right thing to do.” 

Sokka believes him, but there’s caution in Zuko’s tone, not unsure exactly, just nerves. Before Sokka can ask, he’s easily drawn by Azula into a game of Pai Sho, as Zuko slides further and further down, until he’s finally resting his head in Sokka’s lap, drifting asleep to the sounds of their competitive banter. 

When Zuko is finally snoring, Sokka asks, "Are _you_ alright?"

Azula frowns, like she wasn’t expecting the question. "I want to know why our dirty laundry keeps getting leaked, but it's fine. They can think what they want about me, I don't _care."_

Sokka realises, this probably means she cares a great deal.

He had almost forgotten about her leaked medical records from months ago.

“Do you think it’s the same person?” 

“I don’t know. But when I find out who it was, I’ll have them executed,” she snarls. In that moment, he’d be forgiven for thinking Azula was the Crown Princess, heir to the Fire Throne, and not fourth in line. 

Sokka frowns. “Didn’t you abolish capital punishment?”

“I didn’t say it would be legal.” Sokka bites back a laugh as he looks down softly, at Zuko’s head in his lap. Sleeping, not soundly but sleeping finally all the same. He looks less burdened in his sleep, as if all the weight of his twenty-three years aren’t dragging him down, and he’s not dealing with one of the worst things imaginable right now.

"I feel like something's bothering him," he says, rolling his eyes when Azula gives him a look that suggests he's being rather stupid. "No, I mean… more than the… all of it. It's- I trust him when he says he wants to do this, but it's like he's still holding something back. Like he's upset about something else and I don't know--"

"It's Iroh."

“Your uncle?”

Azula nods, and Sokka tries to understand. Whatever confusion he is feeling must be showing on his face, because after a long, silent moment, she speaks again. Voice low and quiet and matching the fragile peace of the room.

"Zuko is always telling me Iroh loves us, and I suppose in his way he does," Azula spins the white lotus piece between her fingers, and Sokka can see the similarities between them clearer than ever. Zuko’s unmarked cheek facing up in his lap, and Azula looking at him across the tea table. "But he knew what our father was. He let him hurt Zuko, and he let him hurt me. He let our grandfather cart me off rather than deal with me himself. Face the consequences of his neglect. But Zuko's still worried he's disappointed him."

She sets the pai sho tile down between them with a soft ‘ _click.’_

“He thinks I don’t know he still smokes.” Sokka looks up at that, surprised, Azula’s lips are in a tight line. “It was one of the few rebellions he ever dared against our father.”

Sokka's hand pauses where it is gently stroking over Zuko's hair. Azula keeps staring at her brother. He's never asked Zuko about the smoking, or why he doesn't want Azula to know about it. Of course, he should have known that you can't _hide_ things from Azula, even Sokka knows that.

She lets out a heavy sigh. 

"He told you how he got the scar?" She asks quietly, but she already has the answer even before he nods. It was in the emails, after all. Along with everything else. "I've hurt people in my life, but that day… That is the worst thing I've ever done."

"Azula, you were fourteen, you couldn't have-"

"And you couldn't have prevented the past few days," she counters his point before he's even finished. "But we can protect him. I'll always protect him. I’ll always _love_ him."

Sokka looks down at Zuko’s sleep in his face and knows, sure as he’s ever known anything, that he will too.

"I did it for him, you know?"

Sokka frowns. "What?"

"When I went back to the hospital. I should _say_ I did it for myself, because I wanted to get better, and I _did.._ . But Zuko said he'd take care of me. That even if our uncle and our cousin and our grandfather only cared about us for the positions we held, he'd always care about me." She doesn't take her eyes off Zuko as she says it. It’s more emotion than he’s used to hearing in her voice. Seeing in her face. All her sharp edges soften out momentarily. “When I got out. He was there, just like he promised, and he was the first person to hug me. Since Lu Ten started being… Crown-Prince-in-Practice Lu Ten, I think Zuko’s the only person that’s ever hugged me. He's much too sentimental, your _sunshine_."

Sokka moves Zuko's head carefully out of his lap and onto one of the soft pillows piled around them. He shifts in his sleep but doesn't wake, and Sokka is helpless to the small smile that crosses his face before he turns back to Azula. Her eyes follow him all the way round the tea table until he's kneeling in front of her.

She doesn’t move into the hug he gives her, but she doesn’t push him away. Pats him so awkwardly on the shoulder that he laughs, and it’s the first time he’s _properly_ laughed in almost a week.

“Okay, now get _off_ me.” 

“You know you’re not so bad, Azula,” Sokka grins, pulling out of the hug and rocking back to settle on his knees behind Zuko’s head, idly sliding his fingers back through long, dark hair.

“Really, that’s not what I’ve been reading in the papers these days?” Her dry tone returns along with her smirk as she cocks an eyebrow at him. Sokka rolls his eyes, sensing a trap here somewhere. 

“Oh no? What are they saying?”

" _Apparently_ I'm 'scary and awesome?'” 

Sokka laughs again, so hard that Zuko half wakes up, smiles at the sound, and moves back so he’s resting his head on Sokka’s thigh again. Between Azula, and Katara, and Yue. Suki and Aang and Toph. Between them and Zuko, with his head in Sokka’s lap and his soft heart beating in his chest, Sokka thinks that, just maybe, forever decisions aren’t so bad. 

The storms begin again in the morning.

“Zuko, I- _Sokka?!_ ” Lu Ten’s eyes widen as he takes in Sokka sat at the kitchen table. His face rearranges through shock, to confusion and eventually settles on a thin-lipped, neutral expression. “You’re here… How are you--”

“I invited him,” Zuko appears at Sokka’s shoulder. Not _strictly_ true, Sokka had once again invited himself to Zuko’s palace, but he had been let in without any yelling this time. 

“I see,” Lu Ten says. “And do you think that’s… wise?” 

“Given the entire nation already knows he’s my boyfriend, I don't see the _harm_.” 

Zuko is already on the defensive, words tight and clipped in a way that Sokka isn’t quite used to anymore. The guardedness that Zuko used to use around him feels so strange when it’s directed at someone else, and Sokka is inside the walls. 

He looks at Lu Ten, really looks for the first time ever, and sees the similarities between him and Zuko. The same hairline and nose. The determined gold eyes. The jut of a chin that’s set in clear indication of someone about to start an argument. 

"Zuko," Lu Ten's tone is so reasonable, so forcibly even, but Sokka sees the way Zuko tenses. This is a tone he's heard before and whatever follows is never good. "Don't you think it might have been better if you could have let this die down a bit before inviting him here? And you could be quietly…"

He trails off, determinedly keeping his gaze from drifting back to Sokka. Zuko has gone pale with rage. "Quietly _what,_ Lu? Quietly interested in men?" His voice is acidic. "It's a bit fucking late for that, actually."

“I don’t care that you’re interested in _men_ , Zuko” Lu Ten sighs, “But being with _him--”_ His eyes flicker back to Sokka at last, and there’s an uncomfortable amount of judgement in them. Sokka freezes under it, unsure if it's because he's Water Tribe, because he's a man, or just because he's _Sokka._ Lu Ten didn't seem like a bigot, but he's not exactly being subtle on the judgement now. “--it puts you in more danger than you realise.” 

“Come _on,_ Lu,” Zuko frowns, voice rising, “You’ve always supported me in the past. Why is this any different? Why is me being who I am so bad?”

“This isn’t the same as inheritance money, Zuko. This is your safety! The rest of your life!”

“I don’t need your protection, I’m not a _child.”_

“Then stop acting like one!”

“You say you want to protect me but you don't _know_ shit about me, Lu!" Zuko is yelling now, "Maybe if you’d spent more than ten fucking minutes at a time with me at any point in the last 6 years then you’d _know who I was!”_

“That’s not fair, Zuko, you know that I-,” Lu Ten falters, brow creasing as he considers his younger cousin. There is a hard determination in both of their faces, neither willing to back down. “I have a _duty_ to our people, just like _you_ have a duty to the position you hold. To the crown. Something you clearly cannot comprehend, if you are willing to make this decision without understanding what it will _do_ to the rest of your life.”

Bringing up Zuko’s _duty_ is clearly the wrong move, when Zuko’s face twists with hurt, before his dramatic streak wins out. He throws his arms in the air in exasperation storming forward into Lu Ten’s space. Sokka realises, for the first time, that Zuko is fractionally taller than Lu Ten as they stand glaring at each other.

“What does it even matter if I’m with Sokka? If I _love_ him? I’m third in line! And you’re already fucking married!” Zuko snaps, “Whatever the costs are, I’m pretty fucking sure we can take them. I’ve made my choice, I’m not changing it, and you can’t make me!”

“I don’t want to _make_ you do anything, other than think about the consequences of your actions.” 

“I _have!”_ Zuko exclaims, tugging a hand through his messy hair, “I have thought about them. Lu, _please,_ you’re- you’re supposed to be on my side, here! After all the shit this family has done, you want me to serve the _crown?_ As if our great, great however-many-times grandfather didn't persecute people like me? Like Sokka? Or, spirits, I don't know, how about when our ancestors attempted _genocide_ against the entire fucking Air Nation? This family has done a million awful things in the name of… what? Power? Control? Aren't you fucking _tired_ of it? I don't care what _you_ think my _duty_ is, _we_ have a responsibility to be _better._ "

With that Zuko spins on his heel, leaving a thoroughly dressed down Lu Ten in his wake as he storms out of the room.

“Zuko,” Lu Ten calls after his cousin as he stalks out of the room. He looks back at Sokka, as he stands up, and sighs, “That… Could have gone better. I’m- Please, understand I have no _objection_ to him being…” 

“Interested in men,” Sokka challenges, his own tone prickling with icy barbs, “or interested in _me?”_

Lu Ten frowns, looking pained. “I just don’t want him to suffer. Is this… fiasco with the papers not proof enough that he would be happier… _safer_ without you?”

Sokka scoffs, pacing out from behind the table. “Have you ever considered,” he says sharply, “That your cousin might be happiest if you just let him be himself?”

Mai’s trying to talk Zuko down from the deep seated desire to bolt as they stand outside the Fire Lord’s reception rooms. Sokka stands at Suki’s side a few meters away, unable to get a word in that will do better than Mai’s even, soothing tone. Frankly, he has no idea how the combined efforts of Mai, Suki, Ty Lee and Osha transpired into getting them a meeting with the Fire Lord, but he’s certainly grateful they did. 

He’s stomping down on his nerves in favour of helping Zuko not feel any worse. Zuko wants to do this for himself as much as he does for Sokka, and for the people of the Fire Nation. But the conversation - or to call it what it was, the argument - with Lu Ten left him rattled, if the way he paces back and forth is any indication.

Sokka shoots a sideways look at Suki. 

“So… you two?” Sokka says amicably when the awkward silence becomes too much. 

Suki snorts at the same time Ty Lee giggles.

“ _Really,_ Sokka?” Suki asks, “You want to ask about our relationship? Right now?”

“I’m trying to be a _good_ friend,” he murmurs. “I can’t believe you didn’t just _tell_ me about your lovely girlfriend this whole time.”

“Cute, Sokka,” Ty Lee laughs while Suki rolls her eyes. Her expression softens when Ty Lee reaches over to squeeze Suki’s hand for a moment. 

“All I’m saying is we could have gone on a double date!”

“I think, thanks to you two horny fuckers, we technically ended up on several. You just didn’t know it at the time.” 

Sokka’s gapes at Suki’s words and Ty Lee grins at the expression on his face before high-fiving Suki. 

The levity breaks when the doors at the end of the hall open. 

Azula and Lu Ten stand either side of an older man, just past middle age, with dark grey receding hair, and eyes that could probably be kind if they weren’t studying him and Zuko with calculating precision as he approaches. 

“Uncle… this is Sokka,” Zuko says moving back to his side when his uncle reaches them. Sokka gives his hand a tight squeeze. “My boyfriend.”

The Crown Prince of the Fire Nation is not what Sokka expects. Between Zuko and Azula’s differing opinions, and what he knows from watching the news, he’s never really been sure of _what_ to expect when it comes to Iroh. He can see the similarities, not just between him and Zuko, but between him and Lu Ten, who hovers by Azula’s side with a decidedly weary look on his face. 

Whatever she has said to him, to make him look that way, Sokka would kill to know.

“My nephew,” he’s drawn back to the Crown Prince in front of him as Iroh smiles, pulling Zuko into a hug that is stiffly returned. When he pulls back, a hand lingers on his shoulder. “I’m so pleased to see you well.” 

Sokka fights the urge to snort hysterically at the understatement of the year. Zuko, who stands over half-a-foot taller than Iroh, looks small and drawn from the fitful night of sleep and the days of languishing.

Zuko must know his uncle is lying too, because his nose wrinkles and his lips turn down into a frown. Will dishonesty be the order of the day?

Zuko's hand is tight around his as Iroh's attention turns to him. 

"I have heard many things about you from all three of my charges," Iroh says, reaching out with his other hand to settle it on Sokka’s shoulder. Creating a little huddle of the three of them. "This is not how I would have hoped to meet you, had I known the truth before now."

Sokka doesn’t think Iroh intends it as a criticism, but Zuko deflates slightly next to him anyways. “Uncle, I’m sorry-” 

“It is not you who should be sorry for anything, nephew.”

Zuko bites his lip, and nods tremulously. Hesitating as he looks briefly at Sokka then back to his uncle. “What are we going to tell the Fire Lord?”

“Have I not always taught you to be honest?” Iroh says, releasing them at last as he raises an eyebrow, and Zuko visibly falters, breath catching. 

“You- _you_ want me to be honest about myself?” 

“Oh, Zuko,” Iroh’s tone is overwhelmingly fond. “That is all I have ever wanted for you.” 

Something in Zuko catches, as he processes the sincerity of his uncle’s words. But Sokka is there, steadying hand moving to the small of his back, to keep him from wavering. His voice still quakes when he speaks. “But you… you don’t…”

_Know me._

As if he can read what Zuko is saying, as well as Sokka can, Iroh chuckles. “I look forward to getting to know you better every day,” he says, before his eyes flicker left. Scanning Sokka up and down with a curious smile. “And to knowing your _friend_ as well.”

It’s not scrutiny the same as Lu Ten had given. It’s deeper and warmer, and it makes him nervous in a different way. 

“But, Grandfather won’t--”

“Don’t worry about your grandfather,” Iroh says reassuringly. There’s steel hidden in his silk tones, though. “The Fire Lord shall see reason.”

With that powerful determination, he moves past them, pushing open the doors to the Fire Lord’s rooms and nodding to them all to take their seats around the long, rectangular table. Suki, Ty Lee and Mai all standing by the door. 

They are not left waiting long. 

Fire Lord Azulon strides in and sends a calculated glance over all of them. Like a player examining a Pai Sho board, considering his first move. When he sits, the fire along the grate against the far wall jumps to life, the eerie red glow created by the flames competing with the fluorescent lights hanging above the table. It’s impossible to understand it as anything other than an intimidation tactic, as he sits in silence, the crackle of the fire the only sound, as an attendant pours tea, placing it before the Fire Lord with a deep bow.

Sokka has the most insane desire to laugh, just to create any kind of noise, but he clamps down on his tongue. Refusing, for once, to speak unless he’s asked a direct question. 

This is Zuko’s fight. And he’ll support him till the ends of the earth, but he understands now that it’s important to Zuko that he fights this himself.

Azulon stares Zuko down for a long moment, testing to see if he’ll waver, before finally he speaks. Low and calm and dangerous, “Iroh,” he turns to his son, “You summoned the family and our… guests--,” here, a derisive sniff, “--I think it’s time you tell me what you wanted to achieve. I hope you aren’t thinking of giving any credence to the lies in that _newspaper_.” 

“They’re not lies,” Zuko speaks up immediately, but when his grandfather’s eyes rest on him again, he’s immediately back to looking pointedly at the grain of the table. 

“They are _lies_ if we say they are, Zuko,” Azulon says, as though this is how it works. “The truth is what I say it is. The image of the monarchy is the ideal of Fire Nation Excellence, you will not be allowed to be anything less. As you should by now have learnt.”

The words burn as harshly as the fire, and fury twists in Sokka’s bones. The look on Iroh’s face is enough to tell him he is not the only one. His eyes, the same eyes as Zuko, as Azula, as Lu Ten, are burning. But his voice, when he speaks, is level.

“This is an attempt to unsettle the family, we must not let it," he says, “If the nation sees we are united behind Zuko’s choice, and that we condemn the actions of the papers once again, they will support us.”

“You expect me to let him _choose_ this… this _lifestyle?”_ Azulon sneers, but his son remains stony in the face of it. Azulon’s amber eyes move to survey Sokka, seeing something to find distasteful in every inch of him. Sokka refuses to cower under it. The gaze moves on to Zuko. “To allow him to bring _disgrace_ into this family, as if he hasn’t done enough to dishonor us already.” 

Sokka sees the way Zuko flinches and reaches across under the table to grab his hand and squeeze it tight. Zuko’s fingers wrap around his own like a vice for a moment. Sokka can feel the barely contained sparks where they meet. Across the table, Azula is looking coldly at the Fire Lord, Sokka can see the tingle of electricity around where her own hand is clenched into a fist on the tabletop.

“It was my brother’s dishonorable actions towards his own children that shamed us six years ago, not Zuko’s.” Iroh says.

“It is enough that he drags us through a scandal!” Azulon continues, not shouting, but the quiet, cold rasp of his voice is worse. “You think the people will accept him, if we allow this to stand? He would turn the line of Agni into a laughing stock in the eyes of the world! The monarchy is in a precarious enough state as it is, this could--”

"Zuko is not responsible for the precarity of the monarchy!"

"Nevertheless, he will not be permitted to do it further harm!" Azulon spits through gritted teeth. "We will ensure it is put out that these… emails are a figment of the tabloid press desiring to undermine us, as they always have." Here he throws a look Azula's way. "He will end his _relations_ with that boy and if the issue persists we will find him a _suitable_ wife within the year."

"No." 

And then, despite the crackle of the fire, it is quiet enough to hear a pin drop.

Azulon, everyone, looks at Zuko as he stands, glaring his grandfather down. 

"What did you say to me?"

"I said _no."_

He has that same surety that he did on the phone yesterday, and though his face is pale, his eyes are clear. 

“I’m not expecting it to be _easy_ ,” Zuko says, with a pointed look at Lu Ten before focusing his attention back on the Fire Lord. “And a year ago I was fine with the lie. I- I was prepared to let you keep pushing me on dates with whoever the press office thought looked nicest, Agni, I'd probably have let you marry me off, but… I deserve to be _happy._ As much as anyone else in this stupid family. So I’m not spending another day _lying_.” 

Across the table, Iroh looks impossibly proud. Even Lu Ten besides him looks somewhere between bewildered and begrudgingly impressed, when he clears his own throat. Eyes looking between Zuko and their grandfather. “It might be worth… discussion.” 

Zuko’s head jerks around to look in surprise at his cousin. The flames in the grate spark a little higher as Azulon stands in a rush. But Zuko’s not flinching anymore. 

“I will not _have_ it. Not in this family,” he hisses, all hope of composure lost. Sokka is painfully aware of his status as the only non-flameproof person in the room when the flames spike again. “You have a _birthright._ I will not allow you to abandon it for some _boy.”_

Sokka’s hold on his tongue slips at last. “He’s not abandoning anything.” 

All eyes turn to him, and Zuko’s eyes are shining. Grateful and proud. 

Azulon is murderous. “ _You_ presume to lecture me? _You-_ ”

He feels a flare of heat from beside him as Zuko's indignation spikes on his behalf, and though he opens his mouth to speak, Iroh cuts in first. 

“Sokka is right,” he says, and somehow he still sounds calm where everyone in the room seems various points on the scale of ‘losing their cool’ to ‘never had any level of cool in the first place.’ “If we support Zuko, we avoid further scandal. If we allow Sokka to become a proper suitor, we reclaim the dignity they have been denied. Zuko does not have to abandon anything that he does not want to.”

“The _people_ will not accept a Water Tribe Boy as the suitor to the Prince third in line to the throne,” Azulon scoffs. “They would find it _perverse_.” 

“Actually, they don’t.” Azula speaks up, reaching out her hand for Mai’s tablet, who hands it to her without question. Azula pulls up an something and slides it to the middle of the table. 

It's a feed of social media posts. Bright and vivid and not at all like the ones he was torturing himself with yesterday. Post after post after post gushing with support for Zuko. For him. For _them._

Someone on Ember Island Boulevard holding a poster of what looks like Rangi and a woman next to them holding one of Roku. Words on the cardboard plaque they hold beneath it reading _“ we have always been here.”_ A hasty painting of himself on a wall somewhere, Republic City by the looks of it, in blazing blue and grinning, Zuko's face in red beside him. Another photo, this time of words Sokka recognises as his own sprayed on the side of a bridge in Omashu. The one where he and Zuko met months and months ago, in bright, bold letters. 

**THE FUTURE IS OURS.**

There is no question of who “ours” means. 

"It would seem," Iroh clears his throat, "That whoever plotted this attempt to divide the nation has miscalculated."

Azulon remains unconvinced.

"This is hardly representative of the nation as a whole."

"Oh, for the love of Agni," Lu Ten huffs, surprising Sokka as much as the rest of them. He stands and storms over to the shutters pulled over the windows, yanking them open and allowing daylight to flood the room even as the Fire Lord protests.

There is a crowd, larger than any Sokka has ever seen in the royal plaza, and they are pulsing. Red and gold and _blue_ glinting in the bright sunshine of Caldera. All of it impossible to have seen from the family wing where they spent the night, but there all this time. Banners visible and flags for both their nations flying and the message is clear. As clear as the posters and the paintings and their words, stolen and reclaimed by people that support them. People that want them.

Zuko is as floored as Sokka is. He steps towards the window. Almost stumbling in his quiet awe.

"I will admit, I had my reservations. And they were out of concern for Zuko's safety," Lu Ten looks at Zuko, eyes flickering to Sokka for a fraction of a second. "But his safety means nothing if he is not happy."

"Lu?" Zuko's voice quivers, and Lu Ten bows his head in an apology. Across the table, Azula is looking smug, and Sokka can't help feeling a little smug too.

Iroh walks over to stand beside his nephew, putting a gentle hand on his shoulder again. Zuko almost sags under it.

“I have made many mistakes in the service of protecting this family, I won’t make one now.” he vows, raising the hand to Zuko’s cheek softly. A tear slips shining down Zuko's face. “I am so sorry for this, and for all you have gone through. Had I been a wiser man, I would have stopped it.” Sokka wonders if that’ s not a little unfair, because this is probably about as much Iroh’s fault as it is Sokka’s. “But you will always have my support, I promise.” 

Then, Iroh turns back to his father. "The nation, the family is _safest_ and strongest if we stand against this act together," Iroh asserts. "You know how little it would take to topple us. What the consequences of pursuing an effort to persecute or outcast Zuko would be. I will go to the Ministerial Assembly and see you deposed before I see you take such reckless action in pursuit of your bigotry."

Iroh taught Zuko to play Pai Sho, Sokka knows this. He can see with the threat a skilled master moving his final pieces into place.

The Fire Lord Looks over at Sokka and then Zuko, and Sokka sees something both unexpected and entirely predictable in his eyes: the tinge of fear. He’s afraid of the threat they pose to the image of the Fire Nation that he has spent his life maintaining. They _terrify_ him.

Finally, his cold gaze lands back on Iroh.

“Have you not given me enough ultimatums in your life?"

“This is not an ultimatum, Father,” Iroh says, “Just an opportunity to make the right choice, for once."

Lord Azulon's lip curls, and his rage is palpable. Hot as the flames that have been licking up the side of the room barely contained. Then, at last he stands and, stony faced, gives the tiniest, stiffest nod, before storming out as the fire stutters down. The game, at last, is won.

Zuko pushes him up against the pillar as soon as they are alone in the large reception room. Laughing against Sokka’s lips as he kisses without restraint and without _fear._ The fear of being discovered, chastised, outed, and abandoned has relinquished its vicious hold on Zuko at last. It is relief, pure and simple, that washes over them both now. In the moment that will forever be _after._

A soft _‘I love you’_ is murmured against his skin between every kiss, and Sokka’s heart is about to burst.

They did it. 

_They did it._

Iroh finds them in the garden the next morning - the one with the fateful turtleduck pond - as the sun rises over Caldera. Sokka’s flight leaves in an hour, but the joy of being the _official_ boyfriend of the Fire Prince is that he can show up as late as he likes for the royal family’s private airship and it will still be completely fine.

“Nephew,” Iroh calls fondly, and Zuko sits up onto his elbows, fingers still intertwined with Sokka’s. He starts to pull them back before it dawns on him, yet again, that he doesn’t _have_ to. So he just squeezes tighter, glancing down at Sokka with a brief smile before he bows his head at his uncle.

“Uncle.” 

“I had hoped I would find you here,” he smiles, “Though, I did not expect to find you both. Should you not be headed to your flight by now?”

He raises an eyebrow at Sokka as he sits up too. The heat rises to his face, but Zuko only rolls his eyes. 

“There’s plenty of time.” 

“I’m sure,” Iroh chuckles, “But if you should find the time in your day for an old man, there are things we must talk about, my nephew.” He pauses and glances across at Sokka. There’s something beneath all the softness in his face. A hard look, hidden by a warm smile and the scent of tea leaves. Sokka sees it, though, when Iroh looks at him and says, “I’m quite sure you’ll know too, soon enough.”

As if that isn’t maddeningly cryptic for Sokka to be on his way with. 

Beside him, Zuko only frowns.

If not for the Caldera midmorning traffic, he wouldn’t have seen it. Bright colour splashed on the grey-white wall of a building, leading down a side street. Impossible not to recognise.

“Wait!” Sokka calls to the driver. “Wait! Stop the satomobile!”

They’ve barely come to a full stop before Sokka is stumbling out the door, Suki yelling after him as he pelts towards it, a grin already splitting his face. Up close, the painting is beautiful. 

It’s somewhat softer than he thinks life has ever allowed either of them to be, but it’s breathtaking. As tall as the building, a mural of himself and Zuko, outlined by a full, silver moon. Zuko in deep black, resplendent, a mask - the blue spirit mask - hanging from the hand which is gripped around Sokka. And _Sokka,_ a bead hanging from his hair and flowing blue robes. The intent is clear. 

The blue spirit and his mortal lover. 

Choosing each other against it all.

Sokka’s hands shake as he pulls his phone from his back pocket and, faintly, he registers Suki’s footsteps behind him staggering to a stop as she sees what pulled him from a moving vehicle. He snaps a photo of it and goes straight to his social media. Uploading the image with a simple caption.

_I cannot help but give you my heart._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :D 
> 
> I'm very emotional right now I'm not gonna lie my dudes. This fanfic has been So Much to me over the past three and a half months (god, is that all???) and now we're over 100k. I wrote a fanfic over 100k??? I'm ?????
> 
> But yes the angst train has Left The Station. 
> 
> No more it gets worse. It only gets better <3 
> 
> News Article code by [ElectricAlice!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21974437)
> 
> There is [ART ](https://ohmyzukka.tumblr.com/post/640308150813294592/its-somewhat-softer-than-he-thinks-life-has-ever)of that last scene!


	14. Revelations and Reclaimations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What came next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone made me [ART!!!!](https://twitter.com/AptDewi/status/1350868024442593286?s=20) Ao3 user Racby/twitter user AptDewi, I love you <3

Sokka didn’t grow up on this side of the city. Before Hakoda had won the chieftaincy, before his mother had died, before half the world knew his name, they had lived on the outskirts. Sokka had always assumed, as a child, that he’d have been content to stay there. He’d not entertained the idea of moving into the palace until he was fifteen and his father announced, yes he was going to run for the Chieftaincy. 

His life has taken many turns, since that day, every one as unexpected as the last.

The last thing he’s ever expected, right after an international political sex scandal and becoming the boyfriend of a Fire Nation Prince, is Katara thinking he’s _cool_. But she sidles into his room with a box of mango cream buns a half hour after he gets back to the palace - the palace that he hopes will still be his home a month from now - and his words are in bold, blue letters on her chest. 

_THE FUTURE IS OURS._

So, she must think he’s at least a _little_ bit cool. Sokka abandons his unpacking with a laugh, face splitting into a wide grin when he sees it. “Where in Tui’s name did you _get_ that?”

“There’s a guy selling them in the Fishstones market,”she grins at him, “I got his card, I’m gonna tell the debate club to get them for election night.” 

“You’re kidding,” Sokka laughs, hesitating just a second before throwing himself forwards to hug her. She staggers, laughing with him as her arms go around his back. He buries his face in her hair and whispers a soft, “Thank you.” 

“Don’t thank me yet, you’ve not read the speech I’ve written for you.” 

It was the first thing he’d asked her about, when he’d finally been able to pay attention to his phone after everything with Zuko’s family. Texting her a quick explanation of what he wanted. Now he just has to clear it with dad, but Hakoda’s been in meetings ever since he got back, and so has Osha. So Sokka will just have to wait. 

They head out to Sokka’s balcony, the cream buns balanced on Sokka’s outstretched legs as Sokka fills her in on the missing pieces of information. Apparently between the three of them, Azula, Toph, and Aang did a fairly good job of keeping her and Yue in the loop. But he fills her in on the things she doesn’t already know. 

Being Katara, she cries and sends Zuko a message full of heart emojis, and cries some more before pulling him into another hug. Almost dislodging the buns, spirits forbid. When she pulls back and smiles at him with watery eyes, she finally reaches into her pocket and pulls out a folded-up piece of paper.

“It’s just a first draft,” she says as he unfolds it, “And Dad and Osha still need to approve it, but I wanted your input, so then it’ll have enough of… _you_ in it. That’s the important thing, I think.” 

“You’re the best little sister ever, you know that?” he says softly, because after the week he’s had, he can allow her that, just this once.

“Thanks, dummy,” she smiles back at him. Reaching over for a bun and relaxing back to her seat as she gazes out over the icy courtyard below them. “Oh, hey, weird question. _You’ve_ not heard from Yue, have you? Because no one here has spoken to her since the day you left.”

“What?”

“I mean, I’ve called her, and Osha’s called her, but no one can get hold of her,” Katara frowns, “We walked back to her apartment together after you left, and she’s safe and everything, she just keeps saying she’s ‘busy’ whenever anyone tries to talk to her. She wouldn’t even let me into her place.”

Sokka frowns, “That’s… not like her?”

“Right?”

He feels a little put out that she just… vanished as soon as he’d got on the airship to Caldera. Sokka had actually been kind of hoping she’d be here when he got back, so she could help him strategise his next moves. But Yue can bury herself in her work just as badly as he or Katara can, when things get particularly difficult. 

His international sex scandal _might_ qualify as difficult. 

Sokka opens his mouth to question Katara again when the door to his bedroom opens, and they both turn to see Suki letting herself in. 

“Hey, you two,” she says, “Your dad’s out of his meetings. He wants to see you… and the buns.” 

She nods at the box still balanced precariously on Sokka’s legs and he scowls. He’d kind of been hoping to hang onto them, but Katara rolls her eyes at his face. Scooping them up as she heads back inside and falls into step alongside Suki.

“I take back what I said about you being the best little sister,” he grouses, and Katara laughs as he follows her through the door.

Yue careens into the office approximately an hour after Sokka arm-wrestles his dad for the last cream bun. 

Her white hair is doing a valiant attempt at staying up in the messiest bun that Sokka has ever seen her wear. Silvery curls falling onto the shoulders of her dark blue _Arnook for Mayor_ shirt and her pale blue eyes are wide as she rushes towards Hakoda’s desk. Determinedly slamming the manilla folder down onto it before panting to catch her breath, as though she's just sprinted the whole way here from her apartment. 

“Yue, what the fuck?”

She whirls to Sokka at his words. “I know, I’m sorry, I can explain, I just- There was- I had to-”

Yue sounds almost like him, with her cut off sentences, and she runs a hand through her hair. Mussing it further as she takes a steadying breath. “Sorry, I just, I’ve not left my apartment for two days, and you’re going to understand when I explain it, I promise it’s just,” - she clutches her side - “sorry, just, give me a moment.” 

She leans one hand on the table and one on her side where if the look on her face is any indication she’s got a splitting stitch. Behind his desk, Hakoda pulls the file she’s brought towards himself, opening it with a hesitant expression.

“Tui’s _fucking_ fin.” Katara chokes on her cup of tea as Hakoda’s face pulls from confused to downright furious. They never hear him swear. His dark eyes dart up to look at Yue, just about recovered from sprinting all the way here. “Yue, is this-”

“It’s _proof_ ,” she says, in haphazard erratic glee.

“And he-?”

“Yeah.” 

“ _Spirits,”_ Hakoda frowns, shuffling the papers again, “How in La’s name did you _get_ this? Why do we have this?”

Have _what?_ Sokka wants to go over and rifle through whatever is in the folder that is making his dad look like that. But he doesn’t, because Yue has recovered herself enough to explain. “So,” she says carefully, looking at Sokka for a brief second before she starts to pace. He has… absolutely no idea what to make of the expression on _her_ face. “The day you left for the Fire Nation, I went back to my apartment and there was this email from an anonymous account. Not traceable, total burner, but it sent me a link to a massive file dump. They said they were a hacker, and they had the entire private email server for _Zhao’s fucking campaign.”_

Sokka gapes at her. Eyebrows closing in together because, “ _What?”_

“Right? Like, _why_ send that to me, when I have no business with that information?” 

“Damn right you don’t,” Osha cuts in, “why didn’t you report this?”

“ _Because,”_ Yue says, “The hacker said it was relevant to Sokka’s situation, and that they knew I’d work as fast as possible to find the proof we needed.”

“The proof we needed for _what?”_ Sokka says, tired of half-explanations. “Yue you’re not-”

“It was _Zhao,”_ she says, voice wavering. “Zhao set you up, because he’s working with Ozai.” 

There’s a ringing in his ears again, as his knees go all funny. He has to sit back down. "He was working with _Ozai,_ as in-"

“Zuko’s father,” she nods, “It’s- It’s not super clear from the emails. I mean, a third of them are just dummy accounts, and I narrowed it down with a code, as much as I could, then spent all of the past couple of days going through the last thousand or so manually. They try not to be super explicit but… I think they were planning a coup.” 

Osha swears. 

Sokka’s head won’t stop spinning, and he’s only faintly aware of the fact that his dad has left his seat behind his desk to come and kneel in front of him. Laying a gentle hand on his knee. “We… suspected this was bigger than just the Water Tribes election. Pakku’s opportunistic but he wouldn’t have done this, I just never imagined-” 

Ozai. Zhao. A coup. It seems almost unimaginable. But for every single comment that Zhao has made over his own campaign run about a return to traditional values, and his blatant disdain for the sitting Royal family, and the power they hold but never wield the way he thinks they should. But for the things Iroh said in the Fire Lord’s reception room about how _easy_ it would be for someone attempting to unsettle the nation to start by pitting the Royal family against each other until they tore themselves apart. 

His dad lays out the papers in the folder, and it sickeningly close to the events of a few days ago, but at least they aren’t _his_ emails this time. Sokka notices himself in one of them. It’s an out of focus photograph, but he knows it’s himself and Zuko just from the context. Laying by the turtleduck pond with Zuko’s hands in his hair along with the blossoms he’d put there. It feels wrong to have had that moment watched, stolen from them as well. 

The email attached makes the intent plain. _Negative. Ozai needs something clear. We’re not paying for Unagi sightings._

“Zhao outed you, Sokka,” Yue says, and it sounds like her heart breaks to say it, because she reaches across and lays her hand over his. “Zhao and Ozai, they outed Zuko in an attempt to get to the Royal Family, to divide the Fire Nation. They hired photographers to follow you both, and the hackers to breach your server, and then they resold your emails to the _Caldera Mirror._ It’s- It's international _sabotage_.” 

Sokka's head reels.

The massive breach of privacy for the Chief’s Family won't go ignored; it was unlawful. Having this means the Water Tribe can press charges against Zhao, seeing as it was their email server that got hacked. It _could_ mean an international law prosecution for Zhao, which would mean...

"Zhao can’t continue running for the Seat if he’s reasonably suspected to be in breach of international law," Sokka realises aloud. He looks from the pages up to his dad. "If we can get this to the right people, prompt an investigation _from_ Republic City into Zhao, then…"

He can't win his election. Can't even stand in it.

And Hakoda's chances of winning his own might just increase. 

But more than that, it's _justice._ The people who did this to Zuko and him won't just get away with it. They can't keep hurting them. It's more closure than he knew he needed, but as relief seeps through him he realises he _did_ need it.

Hakoda, Bato, and Osha are all already leafing through a stack of papers each. Red pen in hand as they underline all the phrases and words that are incriminating. Sokka closes his eyes and takes a breath but it feels impossible to process it. To process the fact that he has to call Zuko and tell him that here he sits with the _proof_ that they’re safe now, or at least that they will be, but also that it was Zuko’s own father that did this to him. 

Katara asks the question that’s most on his mind. “What do we do with it all?”

"If we go to the United Press, and the Republic's judicial branch simultaneously with these…"

"They'd never accept it without a source." Hakoda sighs, setting his pen down. "Especially not a month before our elections. We need verification from someone working on Zhao’s campaign that these are real. And that will take months."

Months that they don’t have, no one dares say.

Katara turns to Yue. "Is there any _clue_ where it came from? Why it came to you?"

"Nothing," Yue shakes her head. "The email that sent the file dump was a burner account attached to another burner account. Whoever did it was careful, they didn't want to be traced. This is the email, the bottom bit was the only bit that I thought, maybe..."

She pulls a paper from the folder, it looks a little different from the rest. Directly for Yue rather than part of the file dump, and at the bottom there is a series of numbers and letters all highlighted, notes scribbled where Yue has already tried to crack them. Something about them is familiar, but he can't put his finger on why precisely.

308 NCS DXMC SP MT HWS 2PT

Sokka mentally takes stock of every bit of code and cipher information that he knows. Staring at the letters and digits as if they'll make sense all of a sudden. They don't, and he takes a second, before he starts as he realises _why_ the combination seems so familiar when it seems at random.

He used to write it on his hand before he committed it to memory.

“Fucking _spirits.”_

 _308 NCS_. 308, New Crescent Street. The nearest _Lotus Noodle_ to the Republic City council offices. _DXMC._ Dao Xiao Mian, the knife-shaved noodles, combo order. _SP._ Scallion Pancakes. _MT._ Mapo Tofu, spicy, but not meaty enough for Sokka. _HWS_ . Honey walnut shrimp, much more to his tastes. _PT._ Peach tea, the best kind, even for Sokka's sweet tooth, and always ordered double.

It's Piandao's fucking _Lotus Noodle_ order. The one they always used to split that summer. It's _meant_ for Sokka. The emails were for Yue to crack but this… this is for _him._

He looks up to meet his dad's eyes. "It's Piandao. He's the source."

"What?" Bato asks sharply, and Sokka lays the paper back down, tapping the jumble of letters. 

"He wanted us to know it was him," Sokka swallows, "I have… no idea why, but if we went public with this, I think he'd back it up."

“What do you mean Iroh _knew?”_

It's the first thing Zuko said when Sokka managed to get him on the phone. Finally able to get away from his dad, leaving him to call Piandao, Sokka faces up to the fact that he has to tell his boyfriend he thinks that his own estranged and banished father was attempting to incite political unrest and maybe dethrone the entire fucking family.

But Iroh _knew._ Their conversation after Sokka had left, his cryptic words that Sokka would know soon enough. He had known that Zhao and Ozai had done this to them. Had known about Piandao. All of it.

“Not in the meeting with my grandfather but… after.” Zuko lets out a heavy sigh “My grandfather keeps yelling about treason and sedition but I just feel… relieved?”

Sokka laughs. Relief is one word for what he’s feeling.

“What does that mean, though? Treason?”

“Technically, I think it’s being viewed officially as part of a wider attempt to overthrow the sovereign.”

“ _Shit_ , Zuko…” Sokka breathes, because it really is as bad as Yue said it was. “Will there be a trial?”

“I imagine so.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s alright, it’s over.” Zuko sounds alright, even if he’s being quiet. Sokka supposes the shock of finding out your long-banished father was planning a coup for the better part of the past few years would do that to you. “If it had been allowed to go on… If Zhao and my father’s plan had worked, and enough people thought their cause-”

“Don’t.”

Sokka won’t let him say it. He feels sick entertaining even the faintest thought of it. Zuko’s father back on the throne would have meant many things, for sure, and none of them would have been good for Zuko. 

They’d more likely have been deadly. 

The Fire Nation’s police are in pursuit of Ozai now, seeing as he was in breach of his exile - not that it was public knowledge before all of this happened- when he started working with Zhao. Zuko’s under tighter security than ever, orders not to leave the palace for now, but with knowing who did it, it feels at last like there’s really a brighter day ahead.

“I’m sorry you got caught up in all of this.”

“Are you kidding me, Zuko?” Sokka says, almost disbelieving, but his voice still comes out soft. Taking any harshness out of the words. “This isn’t your fault. Not anymore than the server leak was mine. This is just… just greedy, awful people, who tried to take something away from us. This wasn’t _you.”_

Zuko’s quiet for a moment, as Sokka’s words settle in. “So… what now?”

“Well,” Sokka hesitates, “If you can convince someone to let you come South, I actually had an idea.”

_ **BREAKING: ZHAO IMPLICATED IN DESTABILISATION PLOT ALONGSIDE FORMER FIRE PRINCE OZAI** _

_ **ZHAO ACCUSED OF HOSTILE ACT OF CONSPIRACY AGAINST THE ROYAL FAMILY** _

_ **REPORT: CLAIMS THAT PIANDAO SOURCE OF ZHAO CONSPIRACY LEAK REMAIN UNFOUNDED** _

_ **SOKKA QANNIQ AND PRINCE ZUKO SURVEILLED AS PART OF… A COUP ATTEMPT? UNRAVEL THIS YEAR’S CRAZIEST POLITICAL STORY SO FAR!!** _

* * *

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* * *

There’s a message waiting for him when Sokka rolls out of bed to join his sister at the breakfast table. It came from the Fire Nation embassy with the morning post, and Katara hands it to him silently. Acting like she’s trying not to watch him as he reads it. 

The lotus stamped in the corner is easy enough to recognise. 

Sokka skims it, before pocketing it with a sigh, and a tight smile to Katara before he starts picking his way through breakfast. Visiting Piandao will answer all the questions he has left. About the emails, about Iroh… about _why_ it all happened the way it did. He's not even sure he wants the answers. 

But he can’t get the image of Piandao’s face that night in the office out of his head. 

“Thoughts on this one?” Sokka slides the drawing of Fat across the table before he steps back again. He had startled Piandao with his silent appearance in the room, and now he just sits gaping at Sokka for a long moment. 

“Sokka,” he greets at last. His smile is brittle and thin. Unsure whether Sokka’s peace offering is just that, as he lays his hand gently over it, pulling it towards himself. “I didn’t know if you would come.” 

The Fire Nation offices in the Embassy are smaller than the Council offices he has in Republic City, and without the familiar comforts Sokka has come to recognise. His former mentor looks out of place here.

“I figured I should come talk to you eventually,” Sokka feigns nonchalance. “Plus, you came all this way.”

They stare at each other for a long moment. A silent, sizing up of one another as Piandao’s fingers curl around the caricature of his assistant, Sokka’s proverbial white flag. Shrewd, brown eyes studying Sokka as Sokka looks defiantly back. Drawing himself to his full height against the silent assessment being made of him. 

Piandao finally breaks it. “I think I owe you an in person explanation, after everything you’ve been through.”

Sokka’s nose wrinkles. The implication that he is fragile; that what happened to him makes him more sensitive, or pitiable in any way doesn’t sit well with him. Sokka has built his image on being the strong, capable, level-headed one of the group and he doesn’t like what the past few days have done to that image. 

But Piandao knows him. Piandao has known him for years, and he’s not here to offer his explanations out of pity, or anything else. If he’s here for explanations, there’s one thing that Sokka needs to know before anything else.

“Did you know?” Sokka shouldn’t ask, but he must. It’s the only way he’ll ever have peace of mind again. “That night I came to see you, did you know what they were going to do?”

 _"No,”_ Piandao shakes his head, “If I had, I wouldn’t- I would have stopped it. I know you must find it hard to believe me, but I swear on my honor that I would not have knowingly let you go through that.” 

Sokka swallows the lump in his throat and nods. Piandao waves to the chair across from him and Sokka takes it, frowning a little. 

“I never understood _why_ ,” he says after a long moment. Piandao’s lips press into a thin line. “This whole time, I just… I wanted for so long to be just like you, and then-” He swallows his criticisms, because without Piandao there’d be no proof that it was Zhao who had done this to Zuko and Sokka. But that doesn’t mean it hadn’t hurt for _months._ “I thought it was _blackmail._ But you did this willingly. You went and worked for him just because someone asked you to.”

“I know,” he says, “And I knew that doing this would break that trust. I knew it would hurt you. It hurt a lot of people.”

“Then why? Other than Prince Iroh asking, why agree?”

He sighs, long and heavy, before taking his glasses off and rubbing at his eyes. He always used to look younger without his glasses. “Zhao and I worked together once before, you know?”

“What?”

“There’s, ah, not much record of it, to be honest,” he clears his throat. "I was about your age, just out of university. It was some domestic politics office staff position, the first paying one I'd ever had, and Zhao was my boss."

Just as Sokka has always suspected, Zhao has always been shady. And Piandao had the proof. Earned from a habit for nosing his way into finding out sensitive information. A slew of new crimes to add to Zhao’s ever-lengthening laundry list. Corruption. Embezzlement. Even Ozai. The beginnings of the nationalist groups that supported Ozai's bid to the throne when he was still just third-in-line, behind his brother and a young Prince Lu Ten. Piandao uncovered it all back then, before being uncovered himself. 

"Why not tell someone then," Sokka asks, "If you got the proof he was doing all that illegal shit, why not just… take it to the police."

“You remember my husband?” Sokka nods, Jeong Jeong is a hard man to forget. Particularly when he called Sokka an oaf. “He… We only had each other, when we were your age. My family had thrown me out for loving him, and he was involved with... well, it doesn’t matter, but there were things that Zhao knew that would have seen Jeong Jeong arrested if they came to light. Zhao said if I went to the authorities with what I had on him, he'd make sure Jeong Jeong was arrested too, make sure I never had a career in law, let alone politics."

Piandao explains the ultimatum Zhao had given him. Stay quiet about what he had uncovered. Zhao’s dirty dealings, and protect the man he loved, or tell everyone about them. Risk not being believed, and lose absolutely everything.

"I was not strong enough to stop him, then, and I didn't think the police would take the word of a 21 year old entry-level government employee over the word of an already established minister and the third Prince of the Nation." Piandao looks ashamed by his confession. "So I quit. I left. I got another job in a different office, and before I left I saved every bit of proof that I had of what he had been working on with Ozai, that he was embezzling, all of it. And I held onto it for the day I was strong enough to do something."

"Bato knew about this," Sokka realises, and it's not a question. Piandao frowns momentarily. Sokka bites his lip, “Before you made the endorsement, I… I know you got in an argument with him.”

“I forgot how tenacious _you_ were with your eavesdropping,” Piandao laughs, “Bato knew I had worked for Zhao in the past. He knew I had proof Zhao used to have ties to Ozai and his loyalists, given how unpopular the former prince already was. He thought leaking that and the blackmail to the press would be enough to damage his campaign. And that, of course, the people had a right to know.”

“Were you ashamed?” Sokka asks, before he can get a hold of his tongue. “Is that why you didn’t just leak it then?”

“The people had a right to know, but Prince Iroh has always played the long game.” Piandao sighs, running a hand down his face. He looks so tired. The same as he had that night in his office. The same tiredness even if the weight that caused it has lifted. “I don’t imagine it crossed his mind that-”

“That the proof would be at Zuko’s expense.”

“I know Prince Iroh feels… awful about it,” Piandao says, “He asked that I extend his personal apologies to you, once again.”

Sokka grimaces. The Crown Prince of the Fire Nation isn’t exactly someone he can shut out of his life anymore. Zuko’s close to his uncle, and growing closer now there are fewer secrets between them. But there’s a part of Sokka that blames Iroh for what happened to them, to Zuko. 

“What if I don’t want to forgive him?”

“I do not believe he would hold it against you, with regards to his nephew, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Sokka’s cheeks heat with a blush. "Sorry, I interrupted… what- how did you end up working with Zhao after all this time, then? Did he not know you had the files?"

"Sokka if he'd known about the files, I'm not sure I'd be alive," Piandao says, before sighing. “When Zhao began his bid for the Republic Council seat, I knew he was up to something. It was just… a feeling. But that's when I arranged a meeting with Prince Iroh. He knew that if I went to work with Zhao, gain his trust by endorsing him, promising to help secure moderate Republic City votes, then I could uncover the truth about his remaining ties to the Prince’s brother. Deal with the problem once and for all. That was the plan, at least.” 

Sokka scoffs, because sending someone into the lion’s jaws like Iroh did to Piandao doesn’t count as much of a plan in his book. 

“Prince Iroh is- He loves his country, _my_ country,” Piandao says, when Sokka meets his gaze again. There’s something about the tone of it that Sokka understands. That it’s less about the _country_ , and more about the people and the ideas Piandao stands for. “It is so unthinkably easy for men like Zhao and Ozai to gain positions of power. Men who would allow us to backslide into bigotry and hatred. I knew that I could do something about it, and while the means may not have been the most honourable or the most easy, I would do it again.” 

Eventually, Sokka nods.

“It was awful, but I spent the whole time just looking for _proof_ that he and Ozai were planning something. I just needed evidence of that, but then... everything came out. I hadn’t even known they were focused on you and Zuko, why would they be? But as soon as it happened, I knew. I knew it was them so I went looking for the proof and when I got it… Well, you know the rest, you were in the Fire Nation by then.”

“There’s another thing I don’t understand,” Sokka says after a moment to process it all. “Why send it to us? Why email Yue? Why not just tell me?”

Multiple things he doesn’t understand.

“On the slim chance of something happening, I didn’t want to be the only one with the information. So before I contacted Iroh, I sent the emails to Yue.” Piandao grimaces, “I trust her, and she loves you. Plus knew how to decrypt a file dump and you could verify the information was from me. Making sure you all had the information was the safest way to ensure some kind of result, someone who could at least stop Zhao gaining a council seat even if something happened in the Fire Nation and the rest of Iroh’s plan went sideways.” 

Sokka doesn’t feel better for knowing, not like he’d thought he would, but he doesn’t feel worse either. It’s like watching the final pieces of a game he hadn’t known he was still playing move into place. After a moment, he shakes his head. 

“You know it was fucking crazy, right?”

Piandao lets out a bark of laughter, grinning tiredly at Sokka. “Yeah, I know,” he laughs, “And while no one’s convicting me of any crimes, I don’t know if it’ll do much for me in the court of public opinion.” He grimaces, “But I wasn’t about to let my nation, everything I’ve worked for , go to men like Ozai and Zhao. There are some things that are worth fighting for, so I fought.”

Sokka can relate to that sentiment, at the very least. Relates to it hard enough to know that when he gets back to the palace, he’ll have to open the post he stashed in his desk drawer a month ago. His law aptitude test results. The fights Sokka’s going to pick from here on out, he intends to be deliberate and well intentioned with. To do the best he can.

“I’m sorry for that night, by the way,” Piandao says, breaking Sokka’s train of thought.

“It’s alright,” Sokka waves him off. The forgiveness is easy, now he knows the truth of it all. “I’m sorry I called you a duplicitous asshole.”

Piandao laughs in earnest. “Yes, those were some of your more choice words.” 

“I was angry,” Sokka shrugs, stretching out in his chair. “Plus, you didn’t actually out me, and you’re not actually a dick, which is a pretty big relief.” 

“Eloquent as always, Sokka,” Pinadao laughs, “Have you ever considered a career in diplomacy.” 

"The thought had occurred to me, yeah," Sokka laughs, "Before I, you know, singlehandedly fucked up my dad's entire campaign by being part of the world's hottest and most inconvenient new power couple."

He says it like a joke, but there's an underlying edge of insecurity to his words. As always, Piandao catches it.

“You haven't fucked anything up yet. And I’ve never been more proud of anyone than I am of you,” Piandao says, softly now. Smiling at Sokka like he genuinely means it. Like Sokka's not as much of a fuck up as he's been thinking he is. “You’re going to be great one day, Sokka.” 

“You think so?” Sokka asks, “Even after I got my sexts read aloud by the HCNN anchor yesterday.” 

"Well, they didn't read the explicit bits, so there's hope for you yet." Piandao says, laughing, and Sokka grins again. “I think that there’s nothing you can’t do if you put your mind to it. I’m sure you’re already coming up with your next plan.” 

“Oh, haven’t you heard? I’m making a speech.” 

When Zuko's airship lands, it blows up thick gusts of snow, and Sokka wishes not for the first time that he had just a little bit of Katara’s magic water abilities. If only to keep himself dry and warm against the bitter snow spray.

It's just a small ship. Small enough to land on the edge of the palace grounds long enough for Zuko to hop out. Weekend bag over his shoulder; long, dark hair blowing in the wind; thick red parka hanging open just enough that Sokka can see a hint of his pale skin above the collar of his high-necked, black shirt. 

That's his fucking boyfriend and, _Spirits_ if he's not the most gorgeous thing Sokka has ever seen.

Zuko saunters forwards with a grin and Sokka wonders, not for the first time, if he knows what he's doing. If he knows that when he tosses his hair to shake the snowflakes out of it, Sokka finds him utterly irresistible. 

Did he piss the sun spirits off, that he gets taunted this way so frequently?

They barely have time to kiss, before they're both whisked off through hair and make-up and it's so vastly different from the last time they were on television together. Now Sokka reaches across to grab Zuko's hand periodically, and Zuko talks so much about the foundation that Azula is setting up that the make-up artist keeps tutting when he creases their fresh powder. 

Hakoda had approved the speech Katara had written for Sokka as soon as he read it. Eyes shining proudly at both of his children as he pulled them into another tight hug. But Sokka toys with it in his hands now. No longer on the folded paper Katara had first given him, but on a neat, blue cue card he can rest against the podium in the Chief's Receiving Room. 

Zuko will stand at his shoulder, in neutral black and gold, and the picture is so clear in his head. Him, the chief's son, and Zuko, the Fire Prince, his _boyfriend_ . The world will be watching as he and Zuko stand up and finally take the future in their own hands the _right_ way. The way he and Zuko talked about, when they talked about reclaiming this from the people who thought they could use their love for each other against them.

Everyone will know, on their terms, exactly what he and Zuko mean to each other. 

He's not scared. Sokka's past being scared of his feelings, and past the fear of voicing them. 

But that doesn't mean he isn't anxious for what comes next.

It's been the longest year of his life, for him to have to boil it down into five minutes. But it's almost a year to the day that Zuko pushed him - or he pushed Zuko, depending on who you ask - into the banquet table at his cousin's wedding. A year of texts and phone calls and emails and hook ups, but most importantly it has been a year he finally realised just how much he didn't know.

He might just be fine with not knowing everything if he gets to figure out the rest with Zuko by his side.

"Sokka," a voice says softly, "Are you alright?"

Sokka starts when Zuko's hand rests on his shoulder. He tries to grin but it wavers, "Oh, you know, just… the whole world about to watch me give probably the most important speech of my life."

He reaches down for Zuko's other hand. Pulling it to his lips to press a kiss to his knuckles that's as much to reassure himself as it is for Zuko's benefit. Zuko squeezes his hand back, and Sokka finally stumbles forward. Pressing his forehead into the firmness of Zuko's shoulder as he takes some steadying breaths. 

"You're the worst idea I've ever had, you know that?" he murmurs against the black silk. Zuko's laugh reverberates through him.

"I love you too, Sokka."

**SOKKA QANNIQ’S ADDRESS FROM SWT PALACE, OFFICIAL TRANSCRIPT**

Hello.

Many of you know me already. You know me as the Chief's Son; Water Tribe through and through and proud to the teeth of it, like so many of you. First, last, and always - I am a child of the Water Tribes. 

I grew up with Southern ice and snow underfoot, and I had taken a swim in the northern canals before I turned sixteen, though I admit that was largely unintentional. When I was just seventeen I spoke to you from Whale Tail island to Republic City to Agna Qel'a, and it has always been my honour to do so. It is my honour to do so again now, speaking to you as myself. The son of the Chief and a son of the water tribe, unashamedly telling you the truth. 

The truth is many years ago I met a prince. A prince who was my opposite and my equal in every way, and as much a product of his nation as I am of mine. 

Zuko and I have been together since the beginning of this year. Many of you know this. Many of you have read our struggle to come to terms with what this means for our nations and for our people. It is my hope that many of you understand, and forgive us the compromises that we have had to make in order to afford ourselves the opportunity to share our relationship on our terms instead of on the terms of others.

We were not afforded that opportunity. 

Many of you have read that I love him. And love, above all, is indomitable.

I am not ashamed to stand here today, where Chiefs have stood before me, and say that I love him. We all make an important choice as to who we share our future with, and who will become a part of our legacy. When I look to the future, I know that Zuko is mine.

Zuko is my choice.

I say this proudly, and I am no longer afraid of the consequences of doing so. To the people of the Fire Nation, and the Water Tribes, of the United Republic and of the Earth Kingdom who are like me; I see you. I see you, and I say again, the future is ours.

I have one favour to ask of the people of my own nation: Please, do not let my choices influence your own choices next month. From Harbour City to Agna Qel'a, I encourage the people of the Water Tribe to vote in the interest of the nation, as the outcome will determine the fate of the Water Tribes for years to come. My actions should not determine your choice. Your chief, my father, is both a warrior for and a champion of the people, and I hope to look forward to six more years of growth, progress, and prosperity under his leadership. I ask the media not to focus on Zuko or me, but on the lives and livelihoods of millions of people at stake in this election, on the campaign and the policy that will have the strongest impact on them.

It is my final hope that the Water Tribes will remember that I am still the son you raised. My blood runs from the heart of Harbour City on my father’s side all the way to Agna Qel'a on my mother’s. I still remember the sound of your voices from that first stage I had the opportunity to speak on. Every morning I remember the tribe that raised me, the families I’ve met at rallies from Whale Tail to Tiger Seal Bay. South to North and everything in between. I have never hoped to be anything other than what I was to you when you first learned my name, and what I am to you now - the Son of the Chief, of the Tribe, yours in actions and words. And I hope, in the coming months, that I will continue to be so.  
  
---  
  
“You could have stayed in my room, you know?” Sokka leans against the door of the guest bedroom Zuko’s been allocated. Watching his boyfriend unpack with a soft smile. “We keep the family rooms much warmer.” 

“Staying warm is hardly the problem,” Zuko chuckles, letting out a soft breath of fire that still makes Sokka’s stomach flip-flop, even after months together. He moves inside as Zuko stows the unpacked weekend back under the end of the bed. There’s a faint flush to his face. “I’d like to be able to look your father in the eye some point soon.” 

This is a bit unfair, as Sokka has had to look his dad in the face almost every day since the emails came out, and he still hasn’t _stopped_ blushing over it. 

It's a small price to pay, though, when he catches Zuko looking at him with that small smile on his face. The one that makes him feel so particularly loved that all he can do is pout in the face of it. He walks over to Zuko as he straightens back up, ensuring he has all his belongings for his short stay properly unpacked before Sokka can distract him.

And Sokka intends to distract him. 

“What about keeping _me_ warm?”

“I’m sure I could manage that too,” Zuko says, then pulls him in by the waist, looking up at him as he sits down on the edge of his bed. Sokka, standing between his legs, smiles down indulgently. 

“Is that a promise, your highness?”

“More of a threat,” Zuko says, tugging Sokka forward as he twists in one motion, pinning Sokka to the bed beneath him and kissing him soundly. 

The door to the hall is still half-open, but it doesn’t matter. Anyone else could walk past this room and it won’t matter, because it’s out there now. Everyone knows that he is Zuko’s and Zuko is his. They might well have been to the spirit world and back to get here, but they’ve done it. 

Sokka breaks the kiss, grinning up at Zuko. "Threatening the Son of the Chief is a crime, you know?"

"I actually have diplomatic immunity," Zuko smirks, and swoops down to kiss him again. Hands moving from Sokka's sides to tug at his shirt. He gets it undone and hanging off of Sokka as he pushes up onto his elbows, arching into Zuko's kisses against his throat as Zuko's hands slide over his stomach.

In Caldera, they couldn't have this. Even after the meeting with Zuko's family, everything still felt brutally heavy. But now they are freer than they've ever been, and Zuko kisses with complete abandon.

"You know shutting the door might help with the looking my dad in the eye thing," Sokka says, and Zuko looks round and curses. Darting over to the door and slamming it, twisting the lock for good measure before he turns back to Sokka on the bed.

When he pulls his shirt over his head, the v-of his hips stands out, and then his soft stomach, and the line of his abs, and that smile, and _spirits..._ Sokka gets to love him forever.

"Get over here and kiss me, sunshine."

When Sokka flops back onto the pillow, breath coming in sated, blissed out pants, he’s awed again by that simple fact. The fact that Zuko is his. His to kiss, his to love, his _forever._ The hair pin wrapped around his neck and resting against his chest is tangential proof. Proof that Zuko's beside him, that he wants to be beside him forever. Zuko says nothing, but his hand reaches down to grasp Sokka’s. 

“I can’t believe you have to leave tomorrow,” Sokka finally says, when he’s caught his breath. He rolls onto his side, not letting go of Zuko’s hand as he settles his head against his shoulder. “I could come with you, if you want?”

Zuko twists his head down to look at Sokka. 

“You’re needed here,” he says, pressing a kiss to Sokka’s forehead, and he can’t exactly argue that. “Besides, I need to handle… everything I said in the emails on my own, I think. Then when things are less messy, you can come back over and be my hot, arm-candy boyfriend.”

“Arm-candy is it?” Sokka digs his elbow into Zuko’s side, and he laughs. It’s such a sweet sound. “I can come over soon, though, right?” 

Zuko’s mouth tugs into a smile. “Absolutely. You’ve got royal suitor photos to take and my Uncle told me to inform you that you’re invited to the Autumn Equinox festival next month…” His voice takes on a teasing lilt, “You should talk to Cixi, I’m sure she’s just _full_ of advice she’d be eager to give you.”

“Great,” Sokka rolls his eyes, before turning his head up again to look at Zuko. The smile on his lips is perfectly content. “You’re happy about all this?”

“Happier than I ever thought I could be,” Zuko murmurs, “Anyway, it’ll be nice to go back and throw myself at some work that means something. Scary, but… good scary.” 

Sokka thinks of the speech he just made, and of the next month of campaign events where he’s finally allowed back into the spotlight because they have no reason to keep him out anymore. He thinks of the man beside him who he loves so entirely, and the whole world that knows that. He gets to figure out how to really love him forever.

It sums up the road from here pretty well, Sokka thinks, and nods, “Good scary.” 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :D 
> 
> Thanks to Millie for being a sounding board for the plot twist way back weeks ago, and thanks to Shen for the ideas re: Piandao's Lotus Noodle order <3
> 
> Also the speech is Very Close to the one in the book but also I fucking love that speech
> 
> I can't believe we're nearly done. I'm just... I was so nervous when I started this fic and now we're here, in sight of the finish line <3


	15. Win or Lose, we go Forward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> we reach the end.

“If you could just turn this way slightly, Sokka?” 

Once again, Sokka finds himself in the unyieldingly hot weather of the Fire Nation. It’s barely been four weeks since he was last here, but the royal family moves fast, when it comes to things like official portraits. He’s learnt a lot about the royal family and official suitors, more than he’d ever consciously expected to, over the past month - past year if he's really being honest.

Surprisingly, it doesn’t make him angry.

That has a lot to do with the look on Zuko’s face, whenever he see Sokka leafing through the binder he’s been given on "protocols for royal suitors."

He'd never imagined he'd enjoy being a "suitor" quite as much as he does.

One of the first things on their checklist, after the initial frenzy had died down, was this. Their official portrait. That’s how they found themselves in the park, just yards down the path from where Zuko had told him he thought they were soulmates. It’s been cordoned off just for them, and it’s not easy for any curious onlookers to see them through all the hanging trees and flowering, autumnal blossoms.

Sokka twists, as the photographer directs him, under Zuko’s arm so they’re angled more towards each other again. They’re trying to make it look natural, rather than staged. But the calculated styling of him in blue and Zuko in red, the bench with the shrine in the background, the new golden pin in Zuko’s hair, reveals how carefully thought out all of this is. 

It takes almost two hours for the photographer to finally be happy. But Sokka sits through it, holding Zuko’s hand on top of his own knee for the camera. Leaning in to murmur in Zuko’s ear every time they take a pause, trying to make him laugh and break his composure down into giggles before the next stream of photographs are taken.

By the time it’s over, the sun has started to dip towards the horizon on the other side of the sky and Sokka knows, even as they start to head back, that his remaining time here is short. 

Azula’s waiting, in the main reception room of their shared apartments in the palace, when Sokka and Zuko finally get there. Pouring over a folder full of notes, her infuriatingly small and neat handwriting spilling over pages on the tea table. Sokka raises an eyebrow at her. 

“Busy, Azula?”

“Very,” she hums, not deigning him interesting enough to look up from her work. 

He really needs to get Azula and Katara together in the same room again. They really would get on. It would be bad for his and Zuko’s sanity, true. But it would be worse for Lu Ten and certainly interesting for everyone else. 

“Enjoy your first rodeo, Sokka?”

He starts, when she realises her haughty, Princess smirk is levelled his way. “It was certainly… something.” 

“Like you’ve not done photoshoots before,” Zuko says from beside him, rolling his eyes. Sokka raises an eyebrow at him. 

“Oh?” he says, “Have you enjoyed my photoshoots, Prince Zuko?” 

“Stop,” Azula says, disgust rolling in her voice, “Stop your weird flirting thing right now or get out of my presence before you do it.” 

Zuko laughs, leaning in to kiss Sokka on the cheek anyway, before pulling him over to the sofa as Azula snaps her folder shut. Between them, Azula and Zuko have had a month almost as busy as Sokka has. The immediate aftermath of Sokka and Zuko’s announcement had been full of decisions about them, but their absentee father being publicly revealed as a criminal had not been without its own level of scandal. Enough of a scandal that it has almost started to eclipse the third in line to the throne being into men, and into Sokka specifically. 

Zuko’s still not been short on personal decisions, though. With all the revelations his emails dug up, there were questions that could not avoid being answered. From Zuko’s potentially pending enlistment in the Fire Navy (no longer an issue, much to Zuko’s relief and not to mention Sokka's) to everything with his father and the scar and the cover-up his grandfather, still the currently sitting Fire Lord, had tried to do back then. Azula, for her part, has been pestering Prince Iroh to let her help - officially or otherwise - with the mission to find her father and bring him to justice. To say she’s thrown herself at it, from the notes Sokka watches her stuffing away, is an understatement. But the positive spin on it all, that Zuko’s more than happy to shine a light on, is his philanthropic efforts with Toph and Aang. 

As he gazes at Zuko lovingly, half-listening to him as he starts to bicker with Azula about what _appropriate amounts of affection for your hard-won boyfriend_ are in front of your sibling, it’s talk of this that catches Sokka’s attention.

"Besides, you've already dealt with all the paperwork for that youth shelter with Toph-"

"Azula,” Zuko cuts in sharply.

"-so what's stopping the two of you running off together into your Republic City sunset so you’re _finally_ out of my way?"

" _Azula_!"

She looks up, flipping her long bangs back, and her eyes flicker from her brother's reproving expression to Sokka's shocked codfish impression. "Oh did he not know?" She raises an eyebrow just enough to let them know she was _perfectly aware_ Sokka hadn't known.

“No,” Zuko bites, “He _didn’t.”_

Azula smirks at her brother, and the phrase _butter wouldn’t melt_ springs to Sokka’s mind. “Oops.”

Zuko sighs, turning back to him and Sokka raises an eyebrow. “I was going to tell you before we announced anything, but Toph and I only signed the papers a few days ago.” 

“Right,” Sokka nods, “But… are you- Wait-” he can feel hope blooming in his chest, and Sokka has to bite down on it before he can get ahead of himself. “Are you going to move to Republic City for it? To be more hands on?”

“I-”Zuko shakes his head, “I’m a Prince, I can’t just-” 

“That’s false,” Azula mutters, “You can do whatever you like, you _know_ Iroh would sign off on it. He indulges you too much.” 

Zuko doesn’t look at his sister. From the tightness of his jaw, Sokka wonders if this is a discussion they’ve had before. “Well, you’d still be in Harbour with your dad all the time anyway, right?” 

“I-,” Sokka hesitates, because he has no idea if that is right anymore, but also no idea how on _earth_ he’s going to explain that to Zuko just yet. The perfectly passable law test grade he received has been sitting on his desk for weeks now, just _waiting_ for him to decide what to do with it, but he can’t-

It's not like he can just move to Republic City with Zuko.

Zuko's looking at him, a mixture of expectant and puzzled. Sokma has never been more grateful for the appearance of Lu Ten in his entire life. 

“Cousin,” Azula smiles, as he knocks on the open door behind them all, and Zuko turns his head, distracted by the word. Azula's tone is only a little acerbic. “Busy day?”

“Busy enough,” he nods, “Dad says hello, by the way. He’s off to the outer islands in the morning but he wants to see us all for dinner, if you’re free?”

To his credit, Lu Ten has been better since the meeting with Azulon. Since he flipped to support Zuko at quite literally the eleventh hour. But it has not quite moved from awkwardness to the casual, familial bond that Zuko told him they once used to share. Zuko goes tight and pulls himself up tall and straight in his seat next to Sokka, as if he’s still waiting for Lu Ten to challenge him over _something._ Years of hurt were not so easily undone by five minutes on the same side, even if Zuko wants them to be.

Lu Ten turns to Sokka, and it’s like he sees more of him now - now that Zuko and he have announced several times to the entire world, more or less, that they very much intend to be each other’s forever. He smiles, and it’s only a little awkward. “You’re welcome to stay as well, if you have the time, Sokka.” 

“Sorry,” Sokka shrugs, “I have to be back in Harbour by tonight. We’ve got the last campaign events.” 

“Of course,” he nods placatingly, as if it’s a small thing, and in the corner of his eye, Sokka sees Zuko’s hand twitch. If Lu Ten sees it too, he doesn’t let the strain enter his voice. He’s determined to keep things nice. “How were the photographs? Did everything go alright?”

“They were fine,” Zuko says, cautiously, “Took forever, though.” 

“Mmm,” Lu Ten half chuckles, “I remember Cixi and I did ours in Ba Sing Se, I thought her secretary was going to start a brawl with the photographer, the time it took him to get a decent photograph.”

Zuko gives his cousin an awkward little smile, and Azula’s carefully blank expression is much better than Sokka’s attempt to stifle a laugh at the awkwardness. Lu Ten clears his throat.

“Anyway, I’ll see you at dinner, I suppose.” He nods, again,then gives an awkward wave, oddly reminiscent of something Zuko would have done once upon a time, when Sokka first started to know him properly, before he’s gone. The door shutting behind him with a quiet click. 

“If we sent him after _our_ dad,” Azula starts in the silence that follows him, and both Zuko and Sokka look at her, “Do you think that would be a good redemption arc for him?”

Zuko only laughs.

“I brought food!”

“Oh, thank the spirits,” Sokka mutters, abandoning his spot in front of the mirror to turn and greet Yue standing in his doorway. In her hand is a bag of takeaway food, wafting the beautiful smell of several pieces of Arctic-Hen into his room. She grins back at him, but her face falls as she takes in his outfit. 

“Is that… That’s not what you’re wearing tomorrow, is it?”

 _“Yue,”_ Sokka whines, looking down at it. Second guessing himself again. 

“No, I mean it,” she continues, pushing into his room and abandoning the food on his desk so she can head towards his wardrobe instead. “I’m like, ninety percent sure Hahn owns that exact outfit so you _can not_ be wearing it when your dad wins the election.” 

“If my dad wins the election,” Sokka mutters, low enough that he doesn’t really mean for Yue to hear it. But she’s Yue so, of course, she does. 

“When,” she says firmly, tossing her silver-white curls over her shoulder as she turns to fix him with a glare. “Since when are you Mr Pessimist.” 

“Uh, since always,” he rolls his eyes, shrugging out of his top, formal layer so he doesn’t get sauce on it when he flops onto the bed with the food Yue has brought him. 

“Uh, no you’re not,” Yue says, rifling through his disorganised rail of clothes. “And besides, if this _is_ your last night as the Son of the Chief you can’t go out wearing something that looks like it was picked out by the most boring man on the planet.” 

“Well, I-” 

She turns to glare at him, and it stills the hand he’s raised to his mouth with half a hen-leg. “So let’s talk about the real reason you’re doing this.” Yue reaches into his wardrobe again, pulling something brighter, and much more _Sokka_ from his collection of clothes. “You’re nervous.” 

He coughs awkwardly, not looking at her. “Well, yeah, of course I’m nervous. It’s my dad’s election, duh.” 

“Sokka.” 

Her tone holds everything from _I’m not an idiot so don’t treat me like one_ to _You’re my best friend and I love you, so please stop being so obtuse._

He sets the food aside, but he still can’t quite bring himself to look at her for a second. When he does, he knows he’ll see those wide blue eyes. All too knowing eyes that have been able to read him like an open book since he was fifteen years old, twice as foolish and foolhardy as he is now. 

"If we lose…" he starts finally, looking up into her gentle expression. _That's on him,_ he doesn’t say _._ But isn't it? Isn't that what's been eating him for a month? The elephantkoi in every room and every conversation. Every time someone asks him how he's doing and he says _fine_ like he's not inches away from checking polling numbers before he gets so nervous he feels sick. 

"Okay, I’m graciously putting a pin in the 'that's not your fault' talk," Yue squints knowingly at him for a second as she takes a seat beside him. His best clothes folded in her lap. "We're not losing. Not in Republic City, not in Whale Tail. Not even in the far out spots like North Stars island or Tiger Seal Bay."

"But Pakku-"

"Pakku showed his ass when he tried to blame part of a Fire Nation coup attempt on you. And he didn't exactly fix it when he got all high and mighty and refused to retract his statements. I don't know if you've looked at _his_ RC numbers recently, but he's not exactly doing great."

Sokka swallows the nerves that have risen in his throat. “Yeah, okay, but it’s never that _simple,”_ he argues, “The numbers say that now but tomorrow they might not- we could-"

"Yeah, maybe we _could,"_ Yue concedes, "But even if we _do,_ that's not on you."

He scowls, "I thought you were putting a pin in the 'not Sokka's fault' talk?"

"Well, you just had to go and look so _miserable."_ She laughs when she says it, but Sokka knows her well enough to know she’s hanging onto a lot of genuine concern for him. “We’re going to be fine, Sokka. If anything, our numbers in Republic City are looking better since you became part of the world’s hottest new power couple.” 

Sokka tries to laugh but it comes out as a shaky exhalation instead. 

"Alright." He says, taking the outfit from her and Yue must notice at the same time as him that his hand also shakes when he does it. The outfit she’s picked out is so quintessentially _him._

And isn’t that just the problem?

"Sokka," she says, "You know you can tell me anything, right? Like, I know I'll never understand what everything that happened felt like, but if it will help to talk about it, you can. I'm here."

"Yeah…” Yue lays a gentle hand on his back, he can feel her frown even when he’s not looking at her. “I just… I’m thinking about the future, now that everything with Zuko and I is- well, not calmer but less international-calamitous-sex-scandal levels of wild.”

“That’s understandable,” Yue says nodding. “So are you looking for ideas here, or...?”

“Not exactly," he starts, still unsteady. "Remember when Hahn and I got in that fight? Right before the conference? I… kind of went and did a law aptitude test-”

“Oh my spirits, _of course you should go to law school!”_ She practically screeches, before he can even finish the sentence, and Sokka’s amazed Katara can’t hear her from halfway across the city. The clarity Yue brings to situations like this is as striking as it was months ago, when he told her about first kissing Zuko. “Did you pass? No. Stupid question, of course you did. Law school! Wait- Have you- You’ve not had time to apply anywhere yet right? Because I need to finish my application to RCU and we could…”

“What, go together?”

“I mean, I know how much you _love_ doing activities with me,” she teases, and Sokka groans. Yue starts laughing as he drops back onto his bed. “I’m joking, but also… I’m not. Just- Imagine it, okay? You go to law school, I go to finish my data science masters, we can get some stupidly tiny, overpriced apartment somewhere in Republic City, and Katara can join us when she graduates in two years! And you and Zuko… you could just exist somewhere beyond all of the fucking shit show of the last few months.”

Sokka is imagining it. He can’t help but picture a tiny, crappy apartment in Republic City where he gets to spend every day living with his best friend, and where his boyfriend can stay when he comes to visit and they don’t have to hide, or worry about being seen. Where they can go out for walks around the neighbourhood, hand in hand. Where, at the end of the day, the only thing that matters is that he’s living his life in the way that makes him happiest. 

“It sounds… really nice.” The relief that comes when he thinks about letting go of a dream he’s been hanging onto for the better part of his adult life is just a little startling. 

As always, Yue calls him when she senses him holding back. “You’re hesitating.”

“It’s just… You remember my plan? It was all graduation, campaigns, staffer, Republic City Council. That was it, right? That’s always been our plan, well, my plan, and I- I thought I wanted that, but then… I don’t know, anymore? The guy who wanted his life to work like that, I don’t think that’s _me_ anymore. I think- I think over the last year I became someone else?”

“Okay,” Yue nods, “But that’s not always a bad thing, Sokka. Not if you like who you are now?”

Sokka hums quietly, then bites his lip. He never didn’t _like_ himself. Even his worst parts, his pessimism and strong-headedness, the neuroticism and the snappishness. They’re still there, hardly softened, melted down and forged into something new by the year he’s had, but there’s other parts too now. He has a sharper wit, he loves stronger, he feels deeper. And, like Piandao, he knows now that some things are always worth the fight.

“I… Yeah, I do.” 

Yue smiles, “Good.” She squeezes the arm tightly around his shoulder before pulling back. “I like you too, even when you’re a dumbass.”

“Hey!”

“Listen, Sokka,” she looks him dead in the eye as her laughter dies down. “I know Katara’s been giving you all sorts of motivational speeches, so I’m not going to repeat them. But… I love you, so I’ll say this. You’re fine as you are now. You’re so full of passion, you’re a brilliant leader, when you’re not being a total dork that big brain of yours comes up with the most brilliant ideas. You’ll make a great lawyer, if that’s what you want. You'll make a great politician if that's what comes after that. Screw the plan. If this is the path you want to take right now… take it.”

And just like that, Sokka can let his oldest dream go, as if it’s the easiest thing in the world, and consider something new. 

He looks at the outfit in his hands again. Midnight blue, with silver embroidery along the collar. White and blue stripes down the sleeves with more embroidery, this time lighter blue and distinctly _southern_ , along the cuffs. It’s him. It’s so very Sokka. Standing up, he walks over to the mirror and shrugs it on carefully. Taking in the reflection that might, for the first time, be his truest self. 

The perfect moment of clarity lasts, as it always does, for only a moment before Katara crashes through the door. She looks at them both, wide grin on her face and snowflakes still caught in her long, curling hair and loops. She doesn’t even falter at Sokka’s outfit before one arm drops a pile of newspapers and the other waves a couple of stapled pages of her latest essay at the both of them.

“Top _fucking_ marks!” she screeches, and Yue laughs darting across the room to grab her around the middle and spin her in a hug, showering her with congratulations before Sokka can join the hug as well. 

They fall, as they have been doing with increasing frequency, into what’s become an easy routine for them after that. Kicking back on Sokka’s bed as Yue calls Azula who finds Zuko and Toph and Katara calls Aang and their big, group call becomes complete, despite the oceans between them all. The gang, together, just the way it should be.

Sokka graciously says nothing when Yue and Katara both fall asleep on his bed _again_ after they finally hang up, celebrated out and news all shared _._ They’ve made a habit of doing that across the last month and many sleepovers. Despite the happy calm that’s settled over them, Sokka still can’t find it in himself to drift off so easily. 

He snakes out from under Yue’s arm, careful not to wake her as he heads over silently to his bathroom. Almost silently, slipping as his foot hit’s something shiny and smooth on the floor. It’s Katara’s copy of _Varricks_ , from the stack of magazines that spilled out of her arms in excitement, but on the cover is a familiar face. His own. One of the shots from his and Zuko’s portrait session. 

Sokka stoops to pick it up, unable even now to resist the pull of _Zuko._

It’s more candid than anything else. Not something Sokka would have expected Caldera palace to approve of, but it’s honest. The kind of honesty that he wants them to have. Honesty that he and Zuko chose, and shared with the world rather than sacred truths that were stolen from them. 

They are completely wrapped up in each other in it: Sokka’s hand on Zuko’s knee and a smile on his lips - the smile that is just for Zuko - and Zuko’s arm resting low around Sokka’s waist. But what’s most catching, most _telling,_ is the expression on Zuko’s face. Loving and bright and so very Zuko, but Sokka has never seen it from this outsiders perspective. He wonders if that broad, all encompassing affection is always there, when Zuko looks at him.

There’s no question in his mind that Zuko helped choose the picture. 

Zuko, his horizon, is both the beginning and the end. Sunrise and sunset, and everything Sokka will always use to find his way.

Wherever that way will take him next, Sokka’s willing to go. He thinks again about Republic City, about Zuko’s youth shelter there. The future he and Yue could only begin dreaming of. A future that exists beyond tomorrow, in the nebulous space that doesn’t scare him quite so much anymore.

He refuses to let tomorrow feel like an ending. It’s win or lose, and there’s nothing that can change that, but he can’t let the fear of not knowing or the guilt that wants to gnaw at him keep him down. He’s Sokka. He’s proud of who he is and who he has spent his life becoming. And he’s desperately in love with the man who sits beside him on magazine covers and who has promised to spend the rest of his life becoming something new with him, over and over again.

Sokka rests the magazine gently on the end table next to his couch and lies down, punching one of his throw pillows into a more accommodating shape. When he falls asleep it's with a soft smile on his face and shining, gold eyes in his dreams. 

Suki is grinning as he accepts his coffee flask back from her outside the polling station, but Sokka’s still buzzing with anxiety. Good anxiety, though. A neat little buzz of adrenaline under his skin as he heads turns his collar up against the growing, icy winds. They’ll die down later, but they’re biting right now. 

“So who’d you vote for,” Suki says, teasing. Sokka rolls his eyes and sips the coffee. 

His vote is one amongst millions. Tally marks against names and no matter how familiar the names are to him - the fact that it’s his own _father -_ it is worth as much and as little as everyone else’s. 

And that’s actually a whole lot.

There's a blizzard between himself and Zuko. A real one this time, as opposed to the metaphorical kind. An ice storm blasts along the North West coast, while Sokka waits in Harbour City for his boyfriend who should have been here an hour ago. Sokka wants him here now. 

It’s not all that different from his usual wants. Being in a long distance relationship isn’t exactly new to them, and it’s hardly agony, but also he’d really appreciate having Zuko here, if only to hold his hands, and kiss his cheek and tell him it was all going to be fine. 

Looking at the vote count right now, none of it _feels_ fine. 

The first numbers through, the first districts able to announce their votes, rarely ever come through in the South’s favour. Sokka knows this. Sokka understands all the intricacies of their voting system as well as he understands himself at this point - which is a damn sight better than this time last year, apparently - but that doesn’t mean he likes it. Doesn’t mean that looking at Pakku’s lead on the big, silver screen hanging over the main stage isn’t doing something funny and twisting in Sokka’s gut.

He’s wrong, when he checks his phone in the bleak, narrow hope that it will help.

> **HRH Prince Jerkbender** **🔥💩**
> 
> **[18:37] HRH Prince Jerkbender** **🔥💩**
> 
> Hey, so, you know how you live in a snowy hellscape? (affectionate)
> 
> We’re having trouble due to the blizzard
> 
> **[18:55] HRH Prince Jerkbender** **🔥💩**
> 
> We’re detouring via Whale Tale.
> 
> It’s just a short stop 
> 
> **[19:16] HRH Prince Jerkbender** **🔥💩**
> 
> Will let you know when we’re back in the air
> 
> **[19:21] HRH Prince Jerkbender** **🔥💩**
> 
> I’m so sorry 
> 
> **[19:28] sokka**
> 
> it's okay
> 
> but also please get here asap
> 
> love you

“Dad, I said _no,”_ Katara’s loud voice draws Sokka’s attention back up from his phone as he keeps refreshing the United Press page an hour later. It hasn’t changed in almost thirty minutes, but that doesn’t mean it won’t _eventually_ change. He clicks it shut as Katara and Dad pace into the room, Bato hot on their heels. Katara whirls, hair whipping about her as she stands her ground against Hakoda. “I’m not writing you a _concession_ speech! You’re not losing this election. _W_ _e’re_ not losing this election,” here she throws a cursory glance at Sokka, as if to remind him of this fact as well. “Six more years, alright? Six more years, and no spiritsdamned concession speech... _ever_ . You got that, _Chief Dad_?” 

Hakoda looks like he might be close to tears at the statement, but he closes his mouth finally and nods. Bato steps forward and lays a hand gently on his back. 

Hakoda clears his throat, before turning to Sokka. “Think you can talk to the crowd for me?”

It’s funny that, six years ago, public speaking _was_ his worst nightmare. Something he had to work on every single day. And now he’s made speeches to the world, declared his love for his royal prince of a boyfriend, rallied people to his father’s cause. He can do this no problem, if it will help his dad. “Of course I can.”

Hakoda says nothing for a long minute, then: “I love you both, you know that right?”

Katara blinks, biting her lip, and Sokka recognises the tell tale signs of his little sister about to start crying. "Of course we do, Dad. We love you too."

Someone calls Haakoda’s name before he can pull her into a hug, and he darts off in the direction of some staff member with new numbers for him, good or bad. Sokka looks nervously at his little sister. 

“Any advice for me?”

“Be yourself?” she grins, and he laughs shortly. Leaning in to press a kiss to the side of her head as he gives her a one armed hug. 

“Helpful as ever,” he mutters and she tweaks his side. 

“I mean it, dummy,” she says, “You’re a leader. Go lead. You got this.”

Suki and Osha are chatting in hushed tones by the door to the backstage area, and at the sight of them, Sokka is reminded painfully of Ty Lee’s absence and with it _Zuko’s._ This would be easier if Zuko was here, and he can't help but wishing. 

Osha looks up at him as he approaches, their smile tight but their face still brimming with grim determination as they take in the sight of him. Reaching out, they straighten his collar before nodding their approval and leading him through the door. “Remember to look confident, okay Sokka? Big fucking smile.”

_Confident._

_Determined._

_Sokka._

That’s all he has to be. All he ever has to be. Just _Sokka._

The spotlight, when he steps onto an almost blinding stage before a crowd as big as any he has ever spoken to, is blinding. He doesn’t let it phase him. They haven’t called Republic City yet. They haven’t even called Harbour City yet. _This race is far from over._

His hand grips the microphone tight, and it’s not shaking now. “How are we doing, Harbour City?”

The resounding cheer is the only answer he needs. Sokka grins, white teeth flashing under sparkling, flashing lights. Full of charm, and determination and honest, southern, Water Tribe soul. 

“So, you guys might not know this, but I never used to be a big public speaker.” He gives them a self deprecating chuckle, and the cheers don’t die down. “But you make it easy. This is my _home._ And I’ve never been more proud of it than I am right now. Never been more proud to belong to the Water Tribes. Between us and Republic City, do you know what the news anchors are saying? They’re saying it’s _too close to call._ They’re saying this race isn’t over, and you know what that means? That means we can _do this,_ Harbour City. 

“I’m standing here, before all of you because you won’t let us stumble backward into hatred, or prejudice or vitriol. I’m standing here because of a Tribe that wants a Chief that’s hard working, and honest and _true.”_

The crowd cheers, and Sokka pulls the microphone closer, letting the whoops linger in the air for a moment. Letting the buzz rush over him again as he smiles into the applause. “And you know what, Harbour City? We’re gonna get it.”

Sokka steps off stage against the roar of the crowd, and he roars with them, in his heart and in his soul. He doesn’t let the clawing, gut-wrenching fear that his words might not ring true, whether in ten minutes or in three hours, pull at him. The first thing he notices as he gets back to the VIP room behind the stage is the scent of jasmine and smoke, and a warm, familiar hand that settles on his waist. 

"Can I hire you to make all my speeches for me?"

The second thing he notices is:

“You’re wearing _blue.”_

“Observant as ever, darling,” Zuko laughs, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek. Sokka huffs, smacking him gently on the chest. 

“I’ve just never seen you in blue,” he pouts as Zuko stands up straight, the smirk still pulling at his lips. “It’s good. You look… good.” 

“Oh?”

“Shut up.” 

“Make me.” 

And Sokka does, wrapping his hands into fists along the collar of Zuko’s nice, _blue,_ silk jacket and pulling him in for a kiss. 

His first kiss with Zuko is seared forever into his brain. The most important kiss of his life on a balcony under a blanket of stars while Sokka just fucking _stood there._ It was the turning point of everything, but it has nothing, nothing at all, on the way Zuko kisses him now. In full view of anyone caring to look. And Sokka kisses back, now. Sokka rests his hand in the long, soft hair falling at the back of Zuko's neck and smiles into it. Because this is his _boyfriend,_ his _soulmate,_ the love of his fucking life and he deserves every smiling, passionate, loving kiss Sokka has in him. 

Pulling back, Sokka looks up at Zuko with a wide, toothy grin. “You’re late, your Highness.” 

Zuko laughs. “I'm a prince, we don't do late, actually.” 

Somewhere to the left of them, there's a scoff, and they break apart a little to look over at Katara. "You know, I’m happy you two worked out and all, but you’re actually kind of sickening. I want someone to punch me in the throat."

Zuko laughs, "Thanks, Katara."

"I think you're sweet," Ty Lee chimes in, from where she's got her head leaned against Suki's shoulder. Sokka hadn't even realised Zuko was bringing her with him, but of course he was.

Katara rolls her eyes at them all, before turning to Sokka. "Your other _guests_ also just got here, by the way, if you wanted to introduce them," Katara nods at Zuko. "I left them by the food table. Try to keep them out of trouble, yeah?"

"I make absolutely no promises," Sokka grins, before weaving his fingers through Zuko's and tugging him in the direction of the food table. Sure enough, there's a familiar silhouette waiting for him. Remarkably free of the toothpick Sokka always remembers him chewing on.

“Jet!” Sokka exclaims, and his ex-sort-of-boyfriend turns at the sound of his name. “You made it!” 

“Of course,” Jet smirks, and a fond sense of platonic nostalgia swarms. “I wasn’t going to pass up the chance to insult the Prince of the Fire Nation to his face.” 

Beside him, Zuko makes a quiet, almost offended sound.

“Or you could be _nice_ to my _boyfriend_.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Jet laughs as Sokka rolls his eyes. "Speaking of boyfriends, this is Haru."

He gestures to the man beside him, who is all long hair and smiles, and is sporting a moustache that - if he'd not spent the last year developing several ounces more tact - Sokka might have laughed at once. As it is, he holds out his hand, and Haru grabs it and shakes firmly.

“Nice to meet you,” he says, grinning. “Jet’s told me a lot about you.” 

Oh, _spirits_. “Ah.”

Jet, the absolute _fucker,_ laughs. “Don’t tell him that, he’ll think you hate him.” 

Sokka coughs, and Zuko barely covers a snort for which he gets a crafty elbow in the ribs. Clearing his throat, he grins over. "Well, this is Prince Zuko, titles, titles, blah blah blah."

He doesn't need to be looking at Zuko to know he's rolling his eyes. 

"Just Zuko is fine," he says, sticking his hand out. Sokka watches, apprehensive, as Jet eyes it for almost too long a moment before taking it.

"You know," he says, holding Zuko's hand in what must be a deceptively tight grip. "You're actually pretty cute for a royal, firebending parasite."

Sokka starts regretting every life decision he's ever made, in that moment.

Zuko was clearly expecting something like this, because he just smiles wryly back. "You're not so bad yourself, for an anarchist."

Jet guffaws, before he releases Zuko's hand. He turns to Haru, introducing himself in a more relaxed fashion, and as their boyfriends apparently bond over the ridiculousness of their other halves, Sokka turns to Jet.

"Listen," Sokka says, and Jet raises an eyebrow. "About that summer-"

“Don’t ruin it, Sokka,” Jet interrupts him, “It's cool, alright. I'll probably always think you have dumb as shit ideas about politics, and I'm always gonna trash on your boyfriend for being a symbol of an obsolete ruling class, but we're still cool.”

Sokka laughs, "Right."

“Yue, what’s the math?”

"Well, we're a district down since losing Crab-Walrus Cove, but that doesn't mean-"

"No, I'm not asking about districts we've lost, I meant tell me what we need to win?"

If even Katara is nervous, Sokka can't fathom why he doesn't have a growing pit of dread in his stomach. She has always been the optimist of the two of them. But perhaps his refusal to give into distress and doubt has something and everything to do with the hand wrapped tight around his.

Zuko leans over and presses a kiss to his head, where the braid and buzzed sides of his hair meet, and gives his hand a reassuring squeeze.

"If we lose another district, we won't win without Republic City."

There are three unclaimed areas left on the map. Not counting Republic City. Just the southern and northern capitals, the very ground they're standing on, and the southernmost island of the northern territory. If they win it, the battle will almost surely be over. They'd get enough of the vote-share in Republic City to guarantee the win, but without it… 

Sokka might throw up. That’s how it feels, even as Zuko squeezes his arm tightly, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek again. If he's whispering words of comfort in Sokka's ear, he can't hear them over the rushing in his head. The pounding, sinking, awful feeling that if they lose, if his father has to concede… 

He doesn’t have time to finish the thought, before the HCNN anchor is back on the big screen, flashing with _Breaking News_ along the ticker. And the final non-capital district flashes a distinctly northern, sea green colour. 

Sokka’s definitely going to throw up.

“ _Fuck!”_ Osha yells, from somewhere behind him. Katara is gnawing at her lip as she ducks out of the room, and Sokka’s starting to wonder if he should have let her do the motivational speaking for the crowd instead. They could certainly use it right now.

“So now…” Zuko looks at him unsurely, and Sokka nods grimly.

“Whoever wins Republic City,” he says, “wins the Chieftaincy.”

The night ticks on.

It’s after midnight, and it still hasn't been called. Harbour is blue and Agna Qel’a is green and Republic City is still an unknown, uncertain mass of grey between Hakoda and a future that has been a year in the making. 

Osha is still pacing, fingers tapping angrily at her phone, before they’re yelling angrily into their phone. Sokka tries to commit it to background noise, and that’s an easier task than it used to be. Hakoda is patient. Watching the chaos in the room with a calm, detached air and, though he’s saying nothing, Bato is sitting by his side with an anxious expression on his face. Sokka’s never been more glad that the two of them have each other. His own hand wraps tightly around Zuko’s beside him, and he’s grateful when there is no question asked about it.

Sokka turns, in search of Yue, and it’s a moment before he finds her, because she’s rushing back into the room hot on the heels of Katara and a younger girl who Sokka only sort of recognises. He definitely saw her at the campaign office at least once. 

One of the interns, perhaps? 

“ _Guys,”_ Katara gasps, eyes flashing as she looks nervously up at them all. Hakoda gets to his feet warily. “Korra just- she came from- spirits, just… tell them!”

Korra, the name a little more familiar to Sokka now, looks directly at his dad and says “We think you have the votes.” 

The phone clatters from Osha’s hand to the floor. Hakoda says nothing, but Bato steps forward brave enough to speak. “You _think_?”

“They’re finalising the last RC district now, but-” 

“Oh _spirits-”_

“Uh, guys?” Yue calls, and when Sokka looks at her, her eyes are on the projection screen, and it’s flashing again with that cursed _Breaking News_ ticker. 

Republic City lingers, grey and unknown, for not a second longer than Sokka can bear. There is a moment's silence. A heavy beat as everyone takes it in. Then, at last the deep, southern Blue of a win that means six more years. 

_Six more years._

There is only one thing he can do, as the cacophony of a hard-earned victory erupts around him. Sokka grabs Zuko's face, hands settling on his cheeks as he tugs him down into a kiss. Zuko responds eagerly. His own hands sliding under Sokka's jacket as he pulls his body flush and laughs into his mouth. 

It feels like an ending.

It feels more like a _beginning._

Bato flung himself at Hakoda in the moment of the win, like step-father like step-son, and from the looks of how far he’d staggered backwards to catch him it had taken Sokka’s dad a moment to regain himself before he started kissing a crying Bato. If his dad is crying too, Sokka’s kind enough to pretend not to notice. 

Across the room, Ty Lee has jumped into Suki’s arms and wrapped her legs around her waist, the pair of them spinning around and whooping with delight as Yue doubles over beside them. Somewhere between laughing and crying with relief. Her dad appears at her shoulder, and she turns to wrap him in the biggest hug as Sokka remembers this is partly Arnook's victory too.

Katara has thrown herself at Dad and Bato by the time Sokka turns back to them, finally broken apart and she turns to look for him, ushering him into their family huddle. Zuko smiles encouragingly at him, waving him forward, and Sokka goes. Sokka buries himself in strong arms and the scent of ocean-salt breezes and sea ice and _home._

This victory that is so hard won and yet worth absolutely _everything._ And it's theirs.

There is a ringing in his ears, the cheers of everyone around them. The whole building is celebrating in delight, and Sokka can barely hear Osha who is, of course, the person that recovers first. “Okay places!” they yell, “Five minutes. Five minutes then I want you all in your places.” 

They pat Hakoda by the arm, and he grins softly at them wrapping them into a tight, warm hug as well that's only allowed to last a moment. Sokka swears he sees tears, actual real life spiritsdamned _tears_ in their eyes for a moment though it’s more than his life’s worth to bring them up. They start handing Hakoda everything he needs for his victory speech, and Sokka breaks away from his family again, looking around for a lost moment in search of-

_There._

Zuko is hovering slightly, like he’s not sure where to be and doesn’t want to step on anyone’s victory moment. Sokka marches over and pulls him into an easy hug again. Burying his face in Zuko’s neck and letting himself feel calm, in a way he hasn’t properly felt in months. In almost a year. 

It’s finally over.

“Sokka,” Zuko pulls back to look at him, and Sokka can feel the cool smoothness of his rings against Sokka's own palms when Zuko grabs his hands. It’s grounding. The exhilarated buzz is rolling through his entire body, racking him with a sense of _we did it, we did it we_ **_did_ ** _it,_ but he tries to focus on Zuko’s face. The soft, familiar smile he knows so well, and the words he’s saying. House. Home. Something about a house. 

“I bought a house in Republic City.” 

_Oh._

Just like that, everything falls into place with startlingly crystal clarity. The last piece of a puzzle finally slotting in. Like the frozen, perfect look of an icy morning, he can see the start of the next six years, the start of the rest of his life. No elections, just classes, just learning, and just _Zuko._ Zuko falling asleep beside him at night and waking up beside him every single morning, come rain or shine, and it fits. It fits the last space left open in Sokka’s chest and fills him with something warm, and comfortable. 

It is a life that makes sense, and Sokka is finally ready to start living it.

They sneak out the side door, in the end. In the beautiful chaotic afterglow of the win, after acceptance speeches and dragging his stupid, princely boyfriend on stage because he’s one of them now. Through the beginnings of the afterparty, Zuko is glued to his side but when they decide they’ve had enough, and Sokka decides he has things he wants to show Zuko now he’s finally back in Harbour City, no one notices them go. To the backdrop of fireworks and southern lights, he pulls Zuko down through the city, towards the harbour for which it’s named.

The streets are strewn with sparkling wine corks, and snow turned to slush along formerly crowded walkways. Winding through dome-topped buildings of wood and snow, it takes them longer than it should to reach the harbourside. Mostly because every few steps, Sokka stops and pulls Zuko into another kiss. Under archways and under stars, he kisses Zuko until he’s breathless. He kisses Zuko where anyone and no one can see them, safe in the knowledge that he never ever has to stop.

And every kiss is like falling in love all over again.

Zuko looks at him, when each kiss breaks, and his eyes soft and fond just for Sokka. An understanding sits warmly between the two of them, and Sokka thinks he finally understands how Zuko knew they were soulmates, even all those years ago. How could they ever be anything else? How could any path, any version of their lives, lead him to someone other than Zuko? Strong, beautiful, wonderful Zuko, who sees him exactly as he is. 

With the distance they’ve gained from the city center, all the way to the harbourside boathouse, the fireworks have become dots on the horizon behind them. Sokka is focused on the path ahead of him now. Focused on the beginnings that stretch out in front of him, beginning at the other end of the boat he holds steady as Zuko climbs into it.

Sokka grabs the oar and slips in after him.

“Hey,” he says softly and Zuko’s gaze lands on him again. His eyes shining dull but still golden, even in the dim light of the boathouse. “We did it. We won.”

Zuko’s warm smile is everything, and he offers it to Sokka. “We did.”

With a soft smile of his own, Sokka’s hand grips tight around the paddle, and with a determined push into the water, he finally moves them forwards. 

XX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So like, I was gonna do a whole big Author's Note at the end, and then I wasn't, and then I decided... no, I wrote 117k words, I'm saying something. 
> 
> This fic meant a lot to me. RWRB as a book means a lot to me. I have had an absolutely wild time of it these past few months, and I've never finished a multichapter fanfiction before so taking this on was honestly, kind of ridiculous. And like, whether or not this is any good, I'm so, so proud of it, and I'm so grateful to everyone that helped me along the way. So just a couple of special thanks, actually. The first to my gf, you're a dumbass and you'll probably never read this, but I love you and I appreciate you putting up with my atla obsession. I'm sure that when you made me watch this show last april you never imagined i'd be writing a 100k+ fic for it. Secondly, to the mad lads (you know who you are) for getting me through. I am not joking when I say I couldn't have done it without you, so... cheers <3 
> 
> Finally, if you read this, all 117k words, thank you. That's completely wild to me, and I'm so grateful for that too!
> 
> Oh also, if you read this then read RWRB because of this: 1) I love you and 2) go check out my RWRB Figure Skating AU :D

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [i want your midnights](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27095632) by [annesbonny](https://archiveofourown.org/users/annesbonny/pseuds/annesbonny)
  * [on the light up floor](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27810184) by [annesbonny](https://archiveofourown.org/users/annesbonny/pseuds/annesbonny)




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